


Blackout

by dreamfleet, mezmerize



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Amnesia, Background Snap/Karé, Established Relationship, Finn Is A Badass, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-10-19 09:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 62,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10637175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamfleet/pseuds/dreamfleet, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezmerize/pseuds/mezmerize
Summary: When Finn looks into the eyes of his partner, injured on a mission that Finn led, he sees no hint of recognition.Poe sees him as a stranger. The Resistance leaders see him as a failure.Can Finn find his place again?(Well, yes, of course. But it's not going to be easy.)





	1. Chapter 1

“He’s gonna be okay, BB,” Finn says, his hand light on the droid’s top. BB-8’s large black sensor stares at him and Finn can feel the concern pouring off of it. “We’ll stay with him until he wakes up, alright?”

BB beeps sadly and says in binary <Friend-Poe will do his best to recover, Friend-Finn>.

“I know,” Finn murmurs. His eyes stray again to Poe, lying prone, his face scraped up, his chest rising and falling in shallow breath s.  He’s worried. He’s always worried when Poe goes on a mission. He comes back scraped up more times than not.

Finn talked to him about it, once, after Poe  defied orders to retrieve not just the contact they were after but also all of her friends and her family, left behind on the planet from which she was trying to escape. He’d gotten them all safely into his ship without a backup plan of his own, had BB take them home, and had to be extracted from a tiny moon with a massive chest wound and a broken leg.

He'd spent every moment he could at Poe’s side, just as he is now, but instead of letting the fear seep through, Finn threatened him, telling him that if he got himself killed, no one would miss him. Finn would sell his clothes, which take up four fifths of their shared closet, and he would give Poe's X-wing to Jess. Then Finn and BB-8 would live in together, without him, enjoying their vastly increased space-to-being ratio.

That only made Poe laugh, his eyes bright, and ask for Finn to come down to kiss him.

Now Poe’s eyes are shut, and have been since they got him back to base.  Even if Finn wanted to threaten him, he hasn’t woken up to listen to it. 

It’s going on 20 hours and Finn’s nerves are frayed. 

This time, Poe was hurt on a mission that Finn ran. Poe directly disobeyed an order that Finn gave and ended up shot out of the sky by a TIE Fighter while Finn watched.

This time, anger battles with the fear in his gut.

“Distract me,” he tells BB, unable to look away from Poe’s battered face.

<Has Friend-Finn tried counting? Organics find that a useful tactic.> It tries, but even the burbling flow of binary sounds sad and small, like all those years back on Jakku when Finn had told it about Poe’s supposed death. 

“I dunno if counting’s gonna cut it,” Finn mutters, stroking gently over BB’s top. He sighs and slumps back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I have work to do. I should, I should go. Or get my datapad, at least. I need to prepare to debrief on what went from with the mission.”

<Friend-Poe went wrong.> BB-8 sounds sour about it. 

A very small groan slips from Poe as his face scrunches.

Finn gasps and he’s right at Poe’s side again, hands closing around Poe’s, which lies limp near the edge of the bed. “Poe? Poe, can you hear me?”

Poe’s face twists, pain tugging at his features and curling his mouth as his eyes flutter open. His pupils are gigantic, black swallowing his eyes until only a thin ring of brown is visible around the edges. He blinks a few times, mouth open silently, then gasps and shoves himself up on shaking hands, trying to scramble as far away from Finn as possible.

“Whoa, hey, hey,” Finn lets go of him, moving back slightly. Poe has the same look in his eye that he does when he starts to panic. “You’re okay, you’re okay. We got you back to base. But you shouldn’t move s’much.”

“We,” Poe says, slowly. His voice crackles roughly, and his eyes flick this way and that, from Finn to the walls and monitors around them and back to Finn. For a moment his jaw works. “Which base.”

BB beeps from the floor, its top just visible over the side of the bed. <Friend-Poe, Friend-Poe! We are on Kali, base for the Resistance. Friend-Poe, I am happy that you are awake. Friend-Finn and BB-8 were upset when you got yourself hurt.>

“Yeah,” Finn says with a tired smile, not taking his eyes off of Poe, “what BB said.”

Poe’s face, instead of clearing up with understanding or maybe a smile, only tightens further. His shoulders are a single thrumming line of tension, half-bandaged from his crash. “Kali,” he says, slowly, painfully, like it hurts to talk. He blinks several times, wincing as he does. “Kali in the Outer Rim Kali? That’s…”

“That’s the one,” Finn affirms, his relief melting back into concern. “Poe, I think I should get the doctor. Don’t try to get up or anything, okay?”

Poe watches him, eyes dark and wide and full of confusion and pain. His breath darts in and out of his lungs too-fast, just barely on the verge of hyperventilating. He keeps looking down at BB and then back up, then down at his hands and back to BB and up again and his mouth works but he doesn’t say anything until, finally, small and weak, “My head is killing me.”

“Yeah, no wonder,” Finn murmurs, slowly getting to his feet. His fingers brush BB’s top again and he murmurs, “stay with him, okay?”

BB beeps indignantly, his sensor following Finn as he leaves the room. 

He can wait until after Kalonia gives Poe the O.K. to berate his boyfriend. 

* * *

“Your concussion is worse than I thought,” Kalonia says quietly, removing the light she’d been shining in Poe’s eyes. “I’m going to get you on some painkillers, and you’re going to have to stay awake so we make sure nothing worse happens.” She touches his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re going to be stuck here for a few days at least.”

“I,” Poe starts, still staring at her with those wide, dark eyes. It looks like he wants to say something, and his eyes keep flickering to BB, still steadfastly by his side. His throat works, silent and a little smoother now he’s had some water. “Run a check,” he finally says, too-quick, and then, smaller, “Please.” His eyes flick over to Finn, then back to Kalonia. “Just, just you.”

Kalonia pauses, then nods, “of course, Colonel.” She stands and gestures to Finn, who’s sitting by the wall, datapad in hand. Poe’s barely acknowledged him since he returned with Kalonia. 

Finn follows her just outside the room where she stops him, “You don’t have to wait. This will take some time.”

“Yeah, yes, okay,” Finn breathes, frown deepening. “Will you tell me the results?” 

Kalonia looks at him with something close to sympathy in her eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Finn.”

Finn sucks in a breath and drops his gaze. Usually, she doesn’t care. Usually, Poe asks that Finn stay right there because he wants Finn to know what’s going on with him. “Right. Right. I understand. Then, please tell me when it’s over.”

She nods and turns to walk away.

BB peeks out of the room with a questioning beep. 

“Yeah, I’ll be right here. If they kick you out too, you can sit with me,” Finn tells him, dropping down into one of the chairs in the hall. He’s more familiar with these halls than he would like. 

* * *

“I’m not a Colonel,” is the first thing out of Poe’s mouth when Kalonia sits back down beside him with pad in hand. It’s small, stupid, but Poe’s been stuck on it for however long she’s been gone, and he can’t tell that, exactly: his head feels hollow, scraped clean, like someone took a scalpel to the inside of his skull and pressed. 

Like someone reached into his head with searching fingers, probing, and  _took_. 

He swallows against the rising panic.

Kalonia frowns. 

“Please state your name, rank, and the current year.” For a moment, all Poe can do is stare at her, his brain full of static. 

He’s not a Colonel. Poe can start there. Feeling shaky, he pushes himself up onto his elbows, ignoring the dizziness that washes over him.

“Commander,” he starts haltingly, “Poe Dameron. And the year is,” for a moment Poe has no idea and his throat goes tight but then it trips into his head like a warning light. He can take a guess, ”is 34 ABY. And we’re on Kali, not D’Qar—do you, how did I.” Too many questions. He can’t keep anything straight, can’t get the face of that man out of his head, warm and familiar and full of concern.

Poe doesn’t know him, though.

“Please tell me what just happened to you,” Kalonia requests. 

Poe sucks in a hard breath. He’ll have to debrief with Leia later anyway.

But BB was there. Wasn't it? 

BB was there beside his bed, peering up at him, and memory floods back into Poe in startled bursts like a flood smashing over a dam: sand, and the frozen shivering bolt of a blaster in midair, and the sick red lights in a sky, fear plunging over him like ice. He doesn't know why.

Searing pain bursts behind his eyes; he shoves his hands over his face and grits his teeth. “I, how did we,” he can’t follow the track of his own thoughts. The room spins around him, lurching to one side like a listing ship. Poe’s hands shift to correct before he remembers he’s in a medical bay he doesn’t recognize with his head splitting in two.

Hands are guiding him back down onto the bed, soothing. “We’ll finish the test after you’ve rested,” Kalonia’s voice comes from a distance, from the other end of a dark hallway. Poe whines, feeling pathetic. Distantly, he hears BB-8’s concerned flood of words, blending into the rush of sound in his head before everything goes black.

When Poe  wakes up again, it’s to a dull throbbing ache in the back of his skull, radiating to his teeth and down his spine. He tries to open his eyes and immediately shuts them again, rolling over to push his face into his bandaged arm.

Bandaged. He doesn’t remember his arm getting hurt. Maybe he got shot.

He still doesn’t know where he is, because everyone keeps saying Kali and last he checked they were based on D’Qar.

Poe doesn’t know much right now.

At least, when he finally does manage to open his eyes without pain searing through him, Kalonia is there by his bedside, stolid and familiar.

Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, though. 

Poe’s never seen her do that.

He parts his lips, trying to struggle up to sitting, but he can’t make any sound and his breath comes too fast for him to actually get any words out.

Her hand lands on his chest, gentle but firm pressure holding him down on the bed. “Don’t move, Dameron. You’re safe, your squadron is safe, and I need you to lie still.”

Poe twists away immediately, trying to get out from under the restraints, away so they can’t—but it’s Kalonia, he realizes through the haze of fear, and quiets again. “I,” he starts, then swallows and tries again in a less shaky voice. “I’m okay. How did, when can I debrief? How am I here?”

“You were injured on a mission to Yavin 4,” Kalonia says, matter-of-factly, removing her hand from his chest. “You lost oxygen when entering the atmosphere. Jessika Pava and Temmin Wexley retrieved you. They will debrief the mission.” Her eyes flick over his face, “anything else?”

Confusion sweeps coldly through Poe, tightening into his lungs like claws. His fear must show on his face, because Kalonia moves closer, concern flickering through her eyes. 

“Your hair is up,” he says weakly. 

“It is,” Kalonia affirms. Her expression doesn’t change. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“You never wear your hair up,” Poe continues. His voice sounds high and reedy even to his own ears. He curls his hands back into the sheets, on a bed, not held down. Kalonia’s form swims in his vision. The halo of light around her recedes a bit. “Last,” he has to swallow around his suddenly-dry throat, push through, damn it, he can do this later when he knows all the facts, “last I checked," he has to think again, and everything is blurry. He was in his ship, maybe, or maybe he was strapped to that cold metal table waiting for death in the wake of his failure. "I was on some First Order ship. The, the,” the name is on the tip of his tongue, there, but it slips away before he can catch it and he curses. “Fuck. Big one, a Star Destroyer, they got me on Jakku. The map—” he tries again to sit up, gasping. “They have the map, I gotta—”

“We have the map,” Kalonia assures him, taking notes on her data pad, “lie back down, Dameron.” 

“This can’t be good,” Poe says in a wavering voice, trying to make a joke, only he can’t summon a smile to match.

Kalonia shakes her head. “This isn’t going to be easy to hear, but I believe that you have an acute case of amnesia, possibly brought on by loss of oxygen. The current year is ABY 38.”

She’s lying.

Testing him or something, to see if he really did lose his memory along with the rest of his head from all that time Kylo Ren spent poking around in there, even though Poe will be the first to admit that everything gets fuzzy at the end there: he remembers hearing screaming, and then figuring out the screaming was coming from him, and then nothing at all. 

But Kalonia doesn’t do that kind of thing, and she’s looking at him with familiar eyes with an unfamiliar medical array spread out behind her, and Poe can’t help but believe her.

As much as he doesn’t want to.

“38,” he repeats, faintly. Four years’ worth of memories, apparently wiped from his head from a freak accident on—

Poe’s eyes go wide. He does not lie back down. “You said Yavin 4.”

Kalonia nods, “It was captured by the First Order two years ago. You were there on a mission, I don’t know the details. Finn can tell you more.”

“Finn?” Poe asks. Something clenches in him at the name, but he doesn’t know why. He’s never met anyone named Finn.

The rest of what she just said slowly, slowly filters into his head. “Wait. Yavin, Yavin 4? My dad? Is he okay?”

“If I recall correctly, yes. He and most of the civilians were able to evacuate,” Kalonia picks up her comm, “you’re going to have questions that I can’t answer. I need to keep you here to run further tests, but I can call for someone who can help. Would you prefer Finn or one of your squad?”

That name again. “I don’t know a Finn.”

Kalonia shoots him a sharp look and takes another note. “I see. I’ll be back soon. Stay in bed, press the button if you need anything. You know the drill.”

Poe gives her a tiny, weak smile that he doesn’t feel. “Yeah. I do.” 

At least he knows that much. 

* * *

It’s been nearly an hour and Finn hasn’t heard anything. Kalonia knows him, knows how close they are, that Poe would want him there.

Only Poe looked at him as if he didn’t know him. It’s shock. Or a concussion. Something to addle Poe enough that he doesn’t  acknowledge Finn like he usually would.

“Major,” a loud voice booms down the hall. Finn glances up and his heart sinks. Captain Tye Granta walks toward him with his thudding footsteps, “what are you doing here? The debrief should be happening about now.”

“Yes, sir,” Finn says softly, schooling his expression into something neutral, “Colonel Dameron was injured.”

“And? He’s alive. Now get,” Tye waves a large hand on Finn, who stays where he is, fists curling on his knees.

“The General will understand,” Finn manages to keep his voice mostly even, leveling his gaze with Tye’s.

“The General, maybe. The Admirals?” Tye laughs and walks past Finn. “Good luck.”

Tye’s been cold to Finn from the beginning: it’s nothing  _new_ . Even Poe doesn’t like him very much, and Poe makes it a point to like almost everyone he encounters unless they’re trying to kill him. He’s told Finn that many, many times over the years.

And Finn is missing the debrief to sit here uselessly outside  Medical , waiting for any news about Poe even though he should be in there by Poe’s side making sure he’s alright. 

Tye’s footsteps fade off into the distance, leaving Finn in the heavy silence of his own thoughts and the generators powering Medical. 

All at once, a tiny whirring blur darts out of the door so fast that it nearly slams into the wall opposite. BB-8 corrects and swerves toward Finn at the last second, ramming into his knees. <Friend-Poe is broken!>

Finn jerks, frowning at BB-8. “What?” He turns around and walking with BB-8 toward the private rooms in medical. “BB, he’s broken? What do you mean?”

<Friend-Poe does not recall the current year or his current rank!> BB is practically screeching, keeping itself so close to Finn it nearly trips him a couple times.

Kalonia is there waiting for him, staring down at BB with a quirked brow. “I take it you told him.” She doesn’t sound nearly as upset as she could.

“Yeah, it did,” Finn breathes, staring at her, confusion buzzing in his gut. “He doesn’t remember? Anything?”

“He couldn’t tell me anything more than his name, rank, and what he thought was the current year,” Kalonia says softly. “I can’t tell you any more than that. He’s asleep again now, and I recommend that you go to sleep as well. You’ve been here too long.”

“Uh, yes. I have to go debrief with the Admirals,” Finn can’t quite keep a grimace off his face. “Thank you, doctor. I know he’s in the best hands here.”

Sympathy flashes over the doctor’s face. She rests a hand briefly on his shoulder. “Don’t let them keep you too long. I know you’ve been here since they brought him in.”

“But he’s,” Finn starts, then he sucks in a breath and nods. “Right. Right, I,” swallowing hard, he asks, “will you comm me when he wakes up?”

“Right away,” Kalonia promises quietly as her hand slips off his shoulder. “Get some rest as soon as you can, please. You too, BB-8, I see that power light flashing.”

<BB-8 is fine and will stay with Friend-Poe!> BB argues immediately. 

“Come on, BB,” Finn murmurs, holding out his hand for the droid. “I’ll bring your charging pad here when I come back, alright?”

BB’s dome swivels toward the door, then back to Finn, and then to the door again—it’s unclear whether Poe picked it up from it or it from Poe, but they both do it. <Friend-Finn needs to attend the debriefi ng .> it acknowledges softly. <We will be back.>

Finn smiles sadly and nods to Kalonia. “Thanks. I know you’ll take care of him. I don’t need to warn you that he’s not gonna stay still for long.”

“No, he won’t.” Kalonia says with a hint of a dry smile. “We can handle Colonel Dameron. Don’t worry.” 

* * *

They’re more than halfway through the mission report by the time Finn makes it to the command wing of the base.

All eyes turn to him when he pushes open the door, a current of annoyance flickering through the room like electricity.

“Major Finn. So kind of you to finally join us,” Commander Neelin says sharply, frowning at him. “This session started nearly an hour ago.”

“Apologies, Commander,” Finn says in a quiet voice. He falls into his position around the holo. “Please, continue.”

Neelin glares at him for a moment longer before launching back into her account of the mission planning, full of entirely too much detail as usual. Finn can feel eyes on him. An undercurrent of hissing whispers runs under Neelin’s voice.

“And that, of course, is when Major Finn ordered Black Squadron to engage with the oncoming TIE Fighters,” Neelin says, pointedly not acknowledging Finn. His hands curl at his sides.

“Commander,” he cuts in, “I ordered Black Squadron away from the fight. I evaluated that the fight was not one we could win.”

“Either that is a lie, or Black Squadron directly disobeyed the orders they were given.” Neelin says coolly. Her face betrays exactly which option she thinks is more likely.

Finn presses his lips shut. With a short nod, he says, “I sent the order. I’ll get to the bottom of where this went wrong.”

Neelin narrows her eyes. “Captain Deming will assist you. He isn’t compromised by the mission itself and should be able to provide valuable insight.”

“Yes, sir,” Finn intones evenly, lowering his eyes to look at the holo of Yavin 4 hovering in the center of the circle. It turns slowly, with pinpricks of red light showing where Poe crashed surrounded by a spiderweb of thin red lines: flight vectors, possible and confirmed First Order-owned outposts. The glowing orange dots for  _possible_ have grown exponentially since the mission.

“I’d be happy to assist, Commander.” Captain Deming says coolly from his place beside Neelin. He’s technically too low of a rank to be in the meeting at all, but Neelin’s been training him in leadership and strategy. In most of the tactics meetings lately Deming has hung around the edges like a tall, silent shadow.

His eyes rest on Finn as the discussion shifts back in the granular details: locations of potential outposts on Yavin 4, whether or not they should try again.

They’re discussing the fallout of a mission that Finn led, but he can’t pay attention. Instead, he scribbles on his datapad notes about Poe, what he knows about his condition, about the crash. It’s right next to the doodles he drew months ago of the ring he wants to give to Poe, the simple band with the Resistance’s symbol on the inside, for how they met, how they grew, and how they loved.

“Major Finn,” Akbar’s guttural voice says and Finn suppresses a flinch, looking up at him. “Do you have anything further to add?”

Finn straightens up, his chest tight. “Yes, sir. Despite the losses, we achieved our goal, retrieving some of the last refugees from Yavin 4 and gaining vital intelligence about the First Order’s purpose on the planet. I agree with assessment that this was a morale move more than most things."

“Major Finn failed to mention one crucial part of the failure of his mission,” Neelin says from opposite Finn in her precise, nasal voice. 

“Commander Neelin,” Finn says politely, ceding the floor to her. He picks up his  stylus and forces himself to pay attention.

She steps up silently, standing a little taller, and waits until everyone’s attention is on her again to speak.

“First Order troops appeared to be waiting for Black Squadron and the transport ship. We knew there would be resistance: it is an occupied planet, but this was a coordinated counterattack commencing almost immediately. The Yavin mission was one of the most covert we’ve undertaken, which is why Black Squadron was chosen for the task.”

She’s only repeating back facts they already know, but the ton of her voice sets off whispers around the dark room.

Finn’s breath sticks in his throat.

“Are you suggesting,” Admiral Akbar says in his slow voice, “that the First Order did not attack in reaction, but knew exactly when Black Squadron would arrive?”

“As soon as they broke into the atmosphere, they were swarmed. Colonel Dameron was shot down in mere minutes.” Neelin says with a sideways glance at Finn. “Somehow, they knew we were coming.”

She stares directly at Finn as she says it all.

Finn stares back, brows creasing.

“How could they have known?” Captain  Deming asks in a hush.

Neelin’s large, pale eyes flash. “There are a few ways. They could be intercepting our transmissions. They could be planning better than we are. They could be getting information another way.” Again, she looks at Finn.

“What are you implying, Commander?” Finn asks, voice low.

“Are you saying that Major Finn is feeding information to the First Order?”  Admiral Statura asks quietly. 

Commander Neelin tilts her head up, meeting Finn’s eyes. “I’m suggesting that there is a possibility someone in our ranks, perhaps with a proved connection to both that mission and the First Order—someone who had been urging us to undertake that very mission for months, at our own risk, who was in charge of the planning and who is very close to all of Black Squadron—may have tipped off the First Order.”

The whispers set off all over again, hissing around the room like insects. It seems like everyone is watching Finn, a few with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

“Commander,” Admiral Statura says firmly, but his voice goes ignored in the rising noise. Frowning, he tries one more time, then sighs and stands up. “Commander!” 

Everyone goes quiet at once, eyes on the Admiral instead of Finn. Still frowning, he glances slowly around the room, making sure all attention is focused. “We will get nowhere by arguing. Without all the facts, we can do nothing. I suggest we compile the full report with the help of Major Finn and Captain Deming. We need Colonel Dameron’s account as well.” He looks at Finn, something like sympathy on his face. “What is Colonel Dameron’s status at the moment?”

“Physically, he’s doing well,” Finn says quietly, “however, he’s experiencing memory problems. He doesn’t remember the mission.”

The whispers start up again all at once, cut through with sharper voices.

Neelin narrows her eyes at him from across the room. “That’s certainly convenient.”

“I don’t agree,” Finn levels her with his own glare, “Colonel Dameron’s condition will improve. He will remember shortly.”

“And I’m sure his testimony will be enlightening and impartial,” Neelin says coolly, “but since, as of now, we have nothing but your word to go on, we will need to conduct a full investigation.”

A murmur of agreement rises behind her. Admiral Statura stands, moving closer. 

“Then, unless there is anything else to report, we’re done here. Everyone is dismissed.”

Finn lets out a breath and stands. He could have defended himself better, given more proof, but his heart and his mind are with Poe. To the fact that Poe doesn’t remember him. That the future they planned together is suddenly gone, the idea held on to only be Finn himself. And it doesn’t feel real. His entire chosen life, his life after the First Order, he’s shared everything with Poe. Poe was there from the beginning, Poe gave him his name. And now it’s gone, erased from existence along with the last four years of Poe’s life.

Brows furrowed, Finn leaves the room and walks slowly back to his and Poe’s room. If Poe still wants to share his room.

He imagines for a second how he would feel if he found out that he shared a bed with someone he doesn’t remember. With a grimace, Finn decides to make the room back into what it was before he moved in.  

* * *

Snap and Jess converge on Finn before he can make it back to their wing, coming from the direction of Medical with pale faces and worried frowns set hard on their mouths. 

“Where’ve you been?” Jess demands as soon as they get close enough.

“Debrief,” Finn says quietly, the expressions on their faces making his heart sink further. “How is he?”

Snap frowns. “Debrief? Already? That’s… quick.”

“They’ve been impatient with this whole thing,” Jess shakes her head, her eyes narrowed. “Kalonia wanted us to tell you he’s awake, if you wanted to visit. How’d it go?”

“Not good,” Finn shakes his head, “I’m glad you two are alright. And I’ll need your help putting together the whole story of what happened. But, yeah, uh, let’s see Poe first. If. He still doesn’t remember?”

Jess’ face falls. “Four years, gone.” she confirms quietly. “We’ve already seen him. He’s pretty upset. You know Poe.” She hesitates, searching Finn’s face, then reaches up to wrap both arms around Finn’s shoulders, tugging him down to her level. 

“Kalonia said memory loss usually fixes itself,” Snap offers in a soft voice. He sounds nearly as upset as Finn. 

Finn turns into Jess’ embrace, tucking his head against her neck. She , like Rey, usually avoids too much physical contact. That almost makes it worse: she’s worried about Poe, and about him.

“Did he seem okay?” Finn asks, voice muffled in her jacket, “aside from, from his memory. Is he okay?”

“He was up and moving,” Snap says, but they all know the unspoken there: that doesn’t mean shit. Poe could have two broken legs and cracked ribs and still be up and trying to plan missions. “Nothing big though. A bit of swelling in his stupid head, fractured arm, a cracked rib, but other than that,” and the memory loss, he doesn’t say, though they can all hear it in the spaces between his words, “he’s damn lucky.”

Finn’s arm slips around Jess’ waist, holding her close. He takes a deep, steadying breath. “He’s always been lucky.”

Jess nods mutely. It’s strange to hear her so quiet: Jess’ usual brand of worry is to bully whoever is hurt into accepting whatever treatment she dreams up for them. The first time Finn had gotten a bad viral infection, even after he’d been cleared from Medical she’d shoved him into a bed and force-fed him a tea from her homeworld, then glared at him every time he tried to get up.

Finn hugs her tighter for a second before he pulls back, steadying himself. “Will that freak him out too much? Even if I just go, go bring BB to him?”

“I dunno that he can get much more freaked out than he is right now,” Jess says.

Snap shifts a little closer in front of him, his presence steadying. “Figure you’ll help more than anything,” he says quietly. 

“I hope so,” Finn breathes, pushing himself up. “I’ll let you know how this goes,” he gives them a tiny smile, stepping over the bench and wending his way through the crowded mess hall. He barely ate, has barely eaten since Poe was injured, and seeing Poe might help with that. Seeing Poe usually helps. Poe has been his partner for three years, the solid presence next to him through everything. It aches, knowing that they had something, and now he’s the only bearer of those memories, keeping their relationship alive through the force of his memory.

He collects BB-8 and the charging pad, as promised, and steels himself before they enter medical. Glancing down at BB, he smiles weakly. “You’re gonna take care of him for me, right, buddy?”

BB-8 gives him an offended beep meaning, roughly,  _Obviously!_ and nudges hard at Finn’s legs.

“Right, right,” Finn laughs, and it sounds forced even to his own ears. Slowly, he enters medical, giving Kalonia a quick smile. She nods to him, but doesn’t say anything as she continues measuring some bright blue liquid.

Finn avoids the other doctors and nurses, even though he knows all of them, and worked with them for a short period during his recovery all those years ago. He can’t talk to anyone right now without his voice breaking, his emotions too close to the surface when Poe is concerned.

Quietly, he knocks on the door to Poe’s room, but before Poe has the chance to answer, BB barrels through, beeping loudly, <Friend-Poe! You remember BB-8. BB-8 will ensure  this.>

“I remember you, buddy; how could I forget? I hear you’re kind of a hero these days,” Poe’s voice sounds a lot stronger than it did the first time, but it’s still small and soft and tired, like it is when he’s just woken up and doesn’t quite have his head on straight.

<BB-8 is a hero. BB-8 has the medal to prove it> the droid seems to puff up, rolling back and forth in its excitement. <Friend-Poe remembers BB-8. Good. Friend-Finn was worried.> BB-8 turns its sensor to look at Finn, hovering in the doorway.

“Friend, huh?” Poe asks in that same soft voice, following its gaze up to Finn.

There’s a small smile on his face, but it’s his default smile: the one he uses when he’s meeting someone new, in a weird situation and trying to look friendly. 

Finn steps into the room and sets the charging pad down, plugging it in. “BB-8 can stay with you, now,” he says quietly. That smile hurts, aches down to his core, but this isn’t about him. This is about Poe, who’s hurt and who can’t remember anything past Jakku. It cuts deep into his heart to know that Poe forgot everything, every moment that he knew Finn, cut off right before they met.

“I get the impression I’m supposed to know who you are,” Poe says in a dry voice. He looks over Finn, eyes slipping from his eyes to his mouth and down in a look Finn’s seen from him a thousand times. His smile quirks up a bit when he meets Finn’s eyes.  Finn’s breath catches, frozen in place. He can’t help a weak smile in return.

“Well, yeah. We’re, I’m your,” his tongue fumbles with the words.  _Partner_ , the word they’ve used for one another for years, seems t o o ambiguous now. Partners in work, in life, in love. It means too much. 

Instead, he takes a breath and drops down in the chair by Poe’s bed, holding out his hand. “I’m Finn.”

At least Poe is sitting up now, with bandages around his head pressing some of his wild hair flat to his face—it’s been getting long—and others winding around his shoulder, his ribs.

He shakes Finn’s hand firmly, warmly as always, and Finn can’t be imagining the way Poe’s fingers linger at his wrist as he pulls his hand free. “Good to meet you, Finn. Uh,” nervousness flickers suddenly over his face. He glances down Finn’s chest again, lingering there too before he meets Finn’s eyes. His own are dark with pain, but no longer dilated and foggy. “Really seems like I should remember someone like you.”

Finn smiles, small and sweet. His fingers shift so he’s holding Poe’s hand in his own. “I know you would if you could,” Finn says gently, and he tries to tamp down on the hope swelling in his chest.

“Bet your ass I would,” Poe laughs. It’s a little strained, a little tired, but he doesn’t pull away from Finn, searching over his face. “Kalonia’s keeping me in the dark for now.” The expression on his face, twisting and bitter, says all it needs to about that.

Finn nods, looking down at Poe’s hand in his. An IV drip is connected to Poe’s wrist. “Yeah, I’m not supposed to tell you too many details. We don’t want to confuse your brain anymore. But I can try to answer whatever questions you have. We, we know each other pretty well.” It’s an understatement and tastes sour on his tongue.

Poe, strangely, smiles sweetly at him and squeezes Finn’s hand. “That’s a relief, man, thank you. Can you, uh. Can you fill me in on the whole,” hesitating, he glances down at BB-8, who trills inquiringly, then back up at Finn, “what happened after I blacked out on that Star Destroyer? I mean, obviously BB’s back. My head's all over the place, though. I swear I remember coming back, but.”

“Oh,” Finn’s eyes skate to BB as well, and his lungs feel tight. “Right. That, that’s when we met, actually. You and I got off the Finalizer together. You flew us out of there, but we crashed back on Jakku, ‘cause you had to go get BB. We were separated, and you got a ride off-planet with a smuggler. I managed to find BB, and Rey. You don’t know Rey either, huh,” Finn’s eyes flick back to Poe, “Rey is a Jedi. She trains with Master Skywalker. She, BB, and I got off Jakku. We got BB back to you, with the map to Skywalker and everything.”

Poe’s eyes are very wide by the end of the story, wrapped up in what Finn is saying. He keeps looking down at BB, at his own hands, at the thin IV line, like he’s trying to place all these things he doesn’t remember happening. “So,” he says, very slowly, sucking in a breath, “First Order status: still not down, if they have Yavin 4. Right?”

“Right. We stalled them for a while, but they’re too big. They, they. You know your dad’s okay, right?” Finn holds his hand tighter, mostly for his own benefit.

“Dad,” Poe repeats in a tiny voice, eyes even wider. “Kalonia said she thought he was, where is he, what’s he doing? Is the tree okay?”

“He resettled, on a planet not that far from here,” Finn says gently, “the tree might still be there. We’re not really sure, but your dad got a cutting from it to plant on the new planet, and one for you too. It’s planted outside the base.” Finn’s thumb strokes over Poe’s hand soothingly, the way that Poe needs when he’s about to panic, when Finn can’t draw him close, but still wants to be near. Poe does the same for him when everything is too much.

Usually.

Poe drags in another quaking breath, clearly trying to calm himself down again. “Alright. Alright, that’s—that’s good. Uh,” he glances down at the bed, brows furrowed, then snorts and meets Finn’s eyes again. “Any other bombshells? Just drop ‘em on me all at once. Easier that way.”

“Uh,” Finn smiles and shifts a little closer. “Snap and Karé finally got married last year. You were in the wedding party.”

“About damn time,” Poe snorts. Maybe that news steadies him a little, because the tense set to his shoulders relaxes a bit. He still looks tired, with heavy bags under his eyes and an unfocused haze over his expression, but at least he’s no longer looking at Finn like he wants to run away. 

Actually, he’s looking at Finn with warmth and curiosity. “What about you, buddy? You married or anything?”

Finn’s caught in his gaze, and it almost feels like Poe knows him. But if Poe knew him, he wouldn’t be asking that question. That question that they’ve talked about, on and off for a few months, that he finally asked Poe straight out after one particularly grueling mission that left him exhausted after not sleeping for three days and bruised all over from a horrible landing. He’d taken Poe in his arms and told him, without any couching it, that he wants to be with him forever. Poe laughed and told him  he’s known the same since about three months before kissing Finn for the first time.

“Not yet,” he finally says, barely above a whisper. But he will be, when the war is over. Or when they finally give up and elope. He smiles, remembering Poe’s frequent threats to take him away to some planet in the Outer Rim and get married without all the ceremony. Finn knows he’d never actually want that: Poe wants his dad there, his friends, his squadron.

Poe squeezes his hand just once before tugging it free. “So, obviously BB likes you. BB doesn’t like just anyone, y’know.”

“BB shocked me the first time we met,” Finn laughs, shooting the droid a look. BB whirs innocently, rocking back on its ball. Its watching Finn intently, as it asking him to say something more. Finn shakes his head shortly. Subtly, BB-8 exposes the same little shock-prong it had used on Jakku, whirring at him.

“Don’t threaten him,” Poe laughs, then stops with a wince and a rough cough that shakes his ribs. “Man, do I feel like the wrong end of a bantha. Remind me not to crash again anytime soon.”

<Friend-Poe should stop getting into crashes permanently> BB-8 informs him almost huffily. Poe’s laugh this time is stifled by a yawn. 

“What are the odds, y’think, of me getting outta here any time soon? I hate medical.”

“No, really?” Finn snorts, sitting back. He watches Poe, heart aching. Finn wants to touch him, to push his hair back from his face, to kiss him and let him know he’s safe. He doesn’t do any of those things, hands neatly in his lap. “I’ll put in a good word to Kalonia, but you’re stuck here until she decides. It’s not even better in your fancy officer room?” Finn gestures at the private room around them, small and cramped, but decidedly not in the main room.

“So that’s not really a secret,” Poe drawls with an amused light in his eyes. “Alright, alright, it’s better in the fancy private room. Colonel, huh? What’d I do to deserve that?”

“That is a real story,” Finn smiles, then it fades slightly. “You led the fleet that took out Star Killer base, the First Order’s super weapon.”

Poe’s expression flickers with something, then drops into a frown. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Right. Super weapon. You,” he stares at Finn for a long moment, eyes tracing slow over Finn’s face like he’s trying to remember, but the light of recognition is still absent from his eyes. “You know a lot about me.”

“I, uh,” Finn’s breath catches and he tries to think of an innocent lie, something that could explain why Finn knows what only the man you’ve been living with for three years, or a stalker, would know. Nothing comes to mind. “We live together,” he finishes lamely.

Poe blinks at him. “Cramped for space even on a new fancy base, huh?”

“Sure,” Finn mutters. BB is staring at him and he waves a hand at the droid, who only rolls closer to him, its sensor zooming in on Finn’s face. Finn nudges it with his foot.

<BB-8 finds there is plenty of available space on the Kali base.> It beeps back at him, tilting its head.

“Then how come you live with us?” Finn shoots back, his arms crossing over his chest.

<BB-8 wishes to make sure Friend-Finn and Friend-Poe are safe since you will not do it yourselves> BB informs him archly, making Poe laugh on the bed. 

“That’s BB for you. Taking responsibility for everything. Thanks for bringing its charging pad, by the way.” He’s watching Finn again. “BB doesn’t trust a lot of people with it.”

“I know,” Finn rolls his eyes, waving at BB when it gets too close, encroaching on Finn’s space. “I had to have one of the techs get it before a, uh, a trip once and BB shocked them all the way back to the hangar.”

That surprises a bright, easy laugh out of Poe, the kind that fills up the whole space around him that Finn is pretty much the best at dragging out of him. “BB-8, who taught you manners? Come on.”

<Friend-Poe taught BB-8 everything about manners. Friend-Poe is very rude to not remember Friend-Finn.> BB responds tartly, and very subtly zaps Finn’s calf.

Finn yelps and slaps it away. “BB! Come on, droid,” he mutters. “I’ve tried to teach it better, but you ruined it young.”

“Hey, I had nothing to do with BB’s personality, that’s all up to it,” Poe laughs. It’s an easier sound than his rough laughter of before. “Good luck getting BB to do anything it doesn’t want to do.” His eyes are so warm when he watches Finn, so bright and full of something it’s hard to look at. “Man, thanks for staying down here with me.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Finn smiles back at him, “you need anything, tell BB and it’ll know where to find me. And I mean the good stuff, not just the food you get here. I heard they’re serving Yavinese stew tonight.”

Poe looks _very_ longingly at the door. “The real kind?”

“As close as you can get,” Finn smiles, dropping forward with his elbows on his knees. He waves BB away again when it whines at him.

“You know it’s supposed to be really good for injuries,” Poe tells him in his most serious voice, which almost always means he’s lying to Finn’s face.

Finn’s lips twitch. “You know, I’ve heard that,” he says, nodding seriously. His eyes are bright and he chances a wink at Poe. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You are the best,” Poe tells him fervently. “I feel like shit right now.” And he really must, if he’s saying that out loud without any of his usual bluster and bravado. 

<Friend-Poe should rest!> BB-8 trills loudly, knocking into the side of the bed.

Poe smiles ruefully. “Not gonna get a lot of sleep tonight. Kalonia has to wake me up every couple hours. Oh—” he glances up suddenly. “I crashed."

“Yeah, you did,” Finn pushes himself up and moves to the edge of Poe’s bed, “um, you’re not going to like this. When you went down, your X-wing was damaged. We couldn’t recover any of it.”

Poe’s smile drops all at once. “She’s still there? On Yavin?”

“Yeah, she should be. I don’t think the First Order knows exactly where you fell, and I don’t think they wanted your ship,” Finn frowns, “I bet we could salvage her, if we could get back to Yavin.”

“Yeah,” hope lights up Poe’s eyes as he shifts a little closer to Finn, his face pinched with pain. There are painkillers, but knowing Poe he’s been avoiding them. “You think we could get her back? If she’s not that bad off we could land and fix her up right there, I know my dad’s place has all the tools for Mom’s A-wing.”

“We’ll have to see. The First Order has a large presence there,” Finn says softly, but in light of the hope in Poe’s face, he has to relent. “But, yeah, I bet we could.”

“Good,” Poe says with obvious relief in his voice. “Good. Okay. Soon as I get outta here. Was any of the data from the crash recorded? BB and I can work on some simulations—”

<Friend-Poe is going to rest.> BB-8 scolds, rolling backwards from the bed, making Poe laugh ruefully.

“Yeah, alright,” he relents, and settles back against the pillows with a soft sigh. “Whenever I get out of here.”

Finn’s hand reaches out for him, but he retracts it before he touches Poe. He wants to pull Poe close and reassure him that everything will be okay. “I have the logs. I’ll see what I can find. Get some rest, okay?”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Poe drawls as he flops back into his pillows. 

“Yeah, right,” Finn laughs, and his eyes flick over Poe’s face again, the tired lines and soft eyes, before he turns away, fingers brushing over BB’s top. “You take care of him.”

<BB-8 will not rest until Friend-Poe does!> BB announces, then rolls a few feet after Finn. <Friend-Finn should also rest, and seek comfort with other friends.>

“Thanks, buddy,” Finn murmurs, smiling down at it. BB-8 trills back, zooming in on Finn’s face again. When it seems to be assured that he will in fact go rest, it nods once and goes back to wait by Poe’s bedside.

“Finn,” Poe calls just before he makes it out the door. “What is it you do, anyway?

“Oh,” Finn pauses and turns back to him, fingers gripping the door. “A little of everything. Right now, I’m working with the tacticians. I, I helped plan that mission to Yavin. I’m sorry that it led to, to this.”

“You can’t plan everything,” Poe tells him quietly, tilting his head. He watches Finn for a moment longer before he breaks out into a massive yawn and groans. “Alright, BB, buddy, you were right. The faster I nap the faster I’m outta here, huh? If there really is Yavinese stew I want in on that, invalid or no.”

Finn shoots him a quick smile and ducks out. As soon as the door shuts, he collapses against the wall and slides down it, his head in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Poe wakes all at once, the way he only ever does when he’s on missions: he’s asleep and then he’s awake, blinking and ga sping into the smothering half-darkness of a room he doesn’t immediately recognize. Naked metal beams run parallel to each other across the ceiling, swathed in shadows. Around the room, a few squat machines blink seafoam light at him in slow patterns. 

His head throbs. It takes several long panicked moments before Poe can place the unfamiliar wires draped around the room: the medical bay, Kali, an unspecified time of night because Poe can’t see any clocks and doesn’t know the chronological system here.

A second glance around places BB-8 in stasis mode, charging on its pad plugged in beside the bed.  He shoves himself up onto one elbow, shaking away the last clinging threads of the dream he doesn’t remember, and reaches out a hand to slide over the slick top of BB-8’s dome.

With a soft beep, BB-8 rolls off its charging pad to the edge of Poe’s bed. It looks up at him and its dome tilts to the side.

“Hey, buddy,” Poe says in a rasping voice, offering a half-smile. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. Know the time?”

BB-8 beeps out the time, 04:37, and rolls toward the bed again, clanging against the metal.

“Kriffing late,” Poe grumbles, and flops back, wincing at the rolling nausea that slides slickly up through him. “Can you grab a glass of water?”

With a too-loud beep, BB-8 rolls back, then forward, when zooms in a circle to zoom out of the room.

Bemused, Poe watches it go from the corner of his eye, then settles back into the covers, his mind hovering somewhere in the mist. Like it’s in front of him somehow, or several inches to his left, just out of reach, buzzing.

A few minutes or maybe an hour later, a gentle hand wakes him out of his daze and a glass of water is pressed into his hand.

“Hey, buddy, how’re you feeling?”

The voice is soft and familiar. Poe is smiling even before his eyes are quite all the way open, lifting himself up. He blinks up at the hazy figure next to him, trying to place the feeling of warmth with the face it takes him a second to recognize out of the uniform he was in yesterday. “Finn?”

“Yeah,” the bed sinks down where Finn sits and the hand is warm on Poe’s shoulder. “BB got me.”

Poe’s throat is dry and scratchy, so he sits up just enough to take a gulp of water before glaring down at the droid. “I said a glass of water.”

BB-8 tilts its dome toward the glass in Poe’s hand and he snorts, lifting it in silent acknowledgement.

“What’s a little extra?” Finn asks with a gentle smile. 

“Waking you up at oh-five-hundred to bring me a glass of water,” Poe says, and takes another slow sip. The water is warm and metallic on his tongue .

“I’d be up soon anyway,” Finn assures him. His fingers trail down Poe’s arm. The touch leaves fire in its wake, warm and tingling along the edges of Poe’s nerves.

“When d’you wake up? Mornings are the worst.”

“Oh-five-hundred,” Finn laughs softly, “you hate it.”

He says it with such surety that Poe has to laugh, inching up his pillows a little more. Finn is close and warm in the thin darkness. “It’s a wonder I ever made it through training. You like it?”

“Waking up? Yeah. It’s quiet. It’s the only time it’s quiet here,” Finn breathes, his voice the only sound other than the soft beep of the medical devices around Poe. They’re square, blocky things, squatting along the wall opposite the bed: older models, like everything else in the Resistance, scrounged up from wherever they’re found and coaxed to life. 

“If you don’t like noise, you’re hanging out with the wrong guy,” Poe tells Finn with a tiny smile.

“I like noise, but sometimes I need the quiet. I grew up,” he pauses and his tongue slides over his bottom lip, “somewhere very quiet. Some habits are harder to break.”

“How long’ve you been here?” Poe can’t help but ask, drawn in by the wet shine left behind on Finn’s lip.

“Just over four years,” Finn’s eyes are on Poe’s. “So,” his voice lilts soft and breathy, “you still don’t remember?”

Poe taps at his own head. It sounds hollow and thick and soft, and he realizes then that his hand is bandaged up, too. “Not a damn thing.”

Finn’s expression only flickers for a second. “Getting bored of medical yet?”

“I’ve been bored of medical since I woke up here.” Poe flops back into his pillows, curling his fingers around the mostly-empty glass. Finn’s eyes follow him, tracing his movements. Poe’s back and shoulders twinge. Strangely, his lungs ache. The water isn’t helping. He finishes it off in one neat swig, tossed back like cheap alcohol. “Thanks. For this.”

“Yeah. You want more?” The lines of Finn’s body are tense, like he’s hoping that Poe will give him the out.

Silently, Poe nods and offers him the glass back. “Something,” the word is dry, and he coughs a little around it, has to start again, “something went wrong with my oxygen, right?”

“Yeah,” Finn says again, standing up. The bed squeaks. “They hit your ship, right through your life support system. You fell through the atmosphere with nothing.”

“No wonder,” Poe mumbles, massaging his throat out of instinct more than memory. “Feels like I swallowed half of Jakku.”

“No wonder,” Finn repeats. He hovers by Poe’s bed for a second before he ducks out of the room. Somehow, when it’s just  Poe and BB-8, the room feels colder and smaller. Poe shrinks into his covers, swallowing past his dry throat. Air scrapes at his lungs. There aren’t any windows and so Poe has no idea what the planet’s star is doing. What its star looks like. He thinks, based on old reports, that maybe it’s  green-ish and close, and warms Kali nicely.

“BB-8, buddy,” Poe flips over onto his side, wincing at the pain it causes, “can you pull up a holo of Kali? Don’t know anything about where we are.”

He’s still studying it when Finn comes back into the room, zooming quietly over the jungles and subterranean rivers, including the cave system that they’ve burrowed into for the base: the reason for the damp and the chill and the lack of sunlight. The soft rock of the continent has been tunneled through over millenia, by creatures and water, and left behind cave systems so large they have their own atmospheres, with tiny clouds and rain and trees. Poe is fascinated.

“BB,” Finn says, this time pulling up the metal chair a few feet from Poe’s bed, “show him the waterfall.”

Poe glances up at him, half a smile caught on his lips as BB-8 zooms into the southeastern corner of the lower continent and further, to a silently video of a waterfall fuming its way off a high cliff in a long, thin, white stream. In the plume of vapor at the bottom it disappears: into a _cenote_ , Poe realizes. Into a hole in the rock. “How deep does that thing go?”

“Very,” grinning, Finn reaches out to trail his fingers through it, following the path of the water. The light plays over his skin. “When you’re up, we can go there.”

“I’m getting out tomorrow,” Poe declares quietly. His voice sounds low and rough even to his own ears. He wants to drink the tiny silent waterfall BB-8 projects above itself. “Is the surface hostile? The jungle?” Is it anything like Yavin 4, he wants to ask, but the question is still too raw, thinking of his dad, afraid and alone and forced from the only home he’d ever chosen for himself. Poe wonders if the jungle was burned. If many animals were killed in TIE blasts. If it was silent and sudden or loud and slow, if there was much time and warning to get people out.

Somewhere, Poe knows these things. 

“Only if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Finn sounds cocky, and he’s grinning at Poe, his elbows on his knees. “I could teach you a thing or two.”

“I haven’t forgotten my wild jungle ways,” Poe shoots back. “You go out there a lot, huh, hotshot?”

Finn swallows, his throat moving, before he replies, “I should be out there right now. I get up and, uh, run. Most mornings.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Poe tells him, raising his brows. “Really. I have a world of entertainment at my fingertips. Any novels I’ve read in the last four years that I can experience again for the first time? When I get my memories back, that’ll be great.”

“Oh,” Finn brightens up, sitting up in his chair. “Oh, yeah! You’re totally. Wait, should I tell you what you liked or let you rediscover it?”

“Cheat a bit,” Poe laughs, sitting up with him. “Gimme a really good one. Something with a lot of emotion.” Poe loves romance novels, but maybe Finn doesn’t know about those, even if they do seem to be pretty close.

“Yeah, okay,” Finn nods, “okay, I’m gonna pick out some of your new favorites. Just in case Kalonia keeps you a bit longer.”

Poe groans around a swig of water. “You know she’s gonna try. It brings her great joy to see my suffering.”

“You suffer so prettily,” Finn says, then he sucks in a breath, looking down between his knees. Poe barely has time to wonder at that before  BB-8 rolls over, running into  Finn’s knees and beeping at him.

“Kriff, BB!” Finn jerks back, scowling. “Careful of your ball, droid.”

BB-8 shoots back a quick series of beeps and runs into Finn’s knees again.

“I did not raise you to be a bully,” Poe laughs, waving at him. 

BB-8 beeps something tartly back along the lines of Poe not raising it at all, which is patently untrue and Poe tells it that, laughing at the protesting sound he gets back.

Finn, though. Finn has a strange look on his face. It’s somewhere between a smile and a grimace, like he wants to move closer and run away all at once. 

Poe bites his lip. “You alright, Finn? If you wanna go grab more sleep, I mean—”

Shaking his head, Finn shifts back slightly. “I’m okay. Uh, let me know what Kalonia says.”

“I’ll send BB again,” Poe promises.

Finn reaches down to touch BB-8’s dome. The droid makes a questioning beep and turns its viewer to look at Finn. Smiling softly, Finn nods to it before standing up. “I’ll send BB with the books later too. Um, let me know if you remember anything. For my report, about the mission.”

“Oh,” Poe grimaces. “Reports. Fun. I can try to help out but it’s a big black hole right now. I could make some stuff up for you.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that'll help my case,” Finn shakes his head slowly, “but thanks. If I get desperate, I might take you up on that.”

“I’m a pretty great last resort,” Poe laughs as he flops back against the pillows. He’s getting sick of being here, laying flat with people towering over him—even Finn looks kind of menacing standing beside his bed like that, and Poe doesn’t get the impression that Finn is a very menacing person—but Kalonia wants to keep him for another few days. 

Maybe he’ll have BB-8 help him break out. 

“Good luck,” he adds honestly, because Finn looks like he’ll need it. Reports are the worst. “I’ll be… here. Probably.”

Finn smiles at him, soft and sad, and nods. “Listen to Kalonia, okay? I want you to be out of here as soon as you can be.”

Poe lifts a brow at him. “I make no promises.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Finn offers him a quick smile. “Figured. I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll miss you!” Poe calls in a ridiculous voice, syrup-sweet. “Come back soon!”

Finn grimaces, his nose wrinkling. He shoots Poe a confused look before he murmurs something to BB-8 and leaves, the door shutting behind him.

BB-8 whirls around with a vengeance. <You are not helping.>

Poe, stuck a little bit on the way Finn’s face crinkled up, blinks down at his droid. “Not helping what?”

BB-8, of course, in a fit of pique, doesn’t answer him.

* * *

Finn fidgets in the chair across from Leia, her desk large and imposing between them, covered in flimsies, datapads, and a large comm console to one side. He’s been in here before, but always for a reason, like when she congratulated him for his promotion to Major. Poe had been there with him, standing next to him, looking prouder than Finn has ever seen him.

Now Poe is  stuck in the medical bay with a serious head injury and broken ribs, and Finn is sitting here with no idea why.

“You don’t have to look so nervous,” Leia says dryly, amusement sparkling in her warm eyes. “Relax, I don’t bite anymore.”

“Sorry, sir,” Finn says, trying to force some of the tension out of his shoulders. “You’re rather intimidating.”

“Leia” she requests quietly. “I didn’t call you here for a report. How are you doing?”

Poe’s told Finn about the times when Leia calls him in here just to chat. But Poe’s known her more or less since he was a child. Finn was hardly a child when they met, and the General has rarely spoken to him outside of official business before now.

His jaw works to try and say something positive, but he can’t think of a single thing, not under her intense gaze. “I’m, I’m doing okay,” he finally lands on, his hands clenching on his thighs, “as well as can be expected, I think.”

“Given how much has happened, I don’t expect a lot,” Leia smiles softly at him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet, sir-- Leia,” he corrects with a shy smile. “I was just headed there with C3PO found me.”

Leia’s smile widens. “Perfect. I asked him to bring enough for two. If you have the time.”

“Yeah, yes. I’d like to,” Finn nods, nerves catching in his throat. He looks around to distract himself. There's one old poster behind her head that had gone around the base a year or so back as a joke, of Poe in front of his squadron looking handsome and dashing. He’d laughed at it when they’d been plastered up and only the pink tint to his ears had given away that he was embarrassed by them.

Somehow, that doesn't help.

Leia clears away the mess on her desk without seeming to watch where anything is going, just shoving it all to the side just in time for C3PO to come in with a tray of food.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything special but I found the rest of the greenberry jam and I thought you and Major Finn could use it,” he says as he slides everything onto the desk. Leia shares an amused look with Finn as C3PO continues on about poor Poe and his head and the chances of success at getting the memories back (30,026 to one, according to his pessimistic estimate). He’s just getting into saying something about his own circuits when Leia interrupts with a kind smile. 

“I need you looking into those logs,” she says, and C3PO straightens up in alarm.

“Of course! Right away, sir, although do please let me get that when you’re done,”

“You’re not my servant,” Leia says in a tone that says she has this argument with him every day and is summarily ignored.

“Of course I’m not.” C3PO huffs. “I’ll be back for that in half an hour, and then we do need to go over—”

“Goodbye, C3PO,” Leia calls, and shuts the door with the press of a button.

Finn lets out the laugh he’s been holding back, looking at Leia with bright eyes. “You have so much patience for him.”

“He was with me through some of the scariest parts of my life,” Leia says quietly. “He may be a handful, but C3PO is a hero.”

“I’ve heard the stories,” Finn agrees, sitting up in his chair. “About all of you.”

“I imagine the stories you heard growing up were very different,” Leia says with only warmth and curiosity in her voice. “Maybe closer to the truth than some of the ones the rest of the galaxy grew up on.”

“I’ve also heard Poe’s. His are… exaggerated,” Finn smiles at her, soft and easy, “I was excited when I first met you. Well, still am excited. You’re a legend.”

Leia snorts and pulls one of the mugs of caf closer to herself. “Legend. I don’t recommend it. A lot easier to be a person trying her best to figure this shit out.”

“You can be both,” Finn says quietly.

Leia meets his eyes. “Like it or not, I am both. A person and a symbol.”

“I understand that,” Finn smiles, just a little, “for what it’s worth, you seem to do both very well.” Laughing, Leia hands him a mug of his own and leans back.

“Well, at least someone thinks that. How are you really doing?”

Finn watches her for a second, before he admits, “I’m not doing well. I, I know that I made the right decision, but I can’t help think that this is my fault. That Poe was hurt because of me.”

Leia nods slowly at him, looking somehow very small and very large at the same time. “That’s understandable.”

“I know that he won’t blame me. I am concerned that the Admirals do. Poe is invaluable,” the word strangles in his throat and Finn drops his gaze, trying to regain his composure. “I’m putting together my report. It’ll be done soon.”

“You’re also invaluable,” Leia tells him, raising a brow. “Poe’s not the only one with a great deal of worth attached to him around here, although I’ve heard about how proud he is of the bounty on his head.” She grins, suddenly. “It’s nothing compared to mine. I haven’t told him that.”

“Or mine,” Finn mutters, smiling with her. “General—Leia. What’s the perception? Do they really think this is because of me? Because of Poe?”

Leia sighs quietly and picks up a piece of bread, chewing on the end for a moment before she answers. “It’s not good. Those whispers we’ve been hearing are flaring up again. I’ve been doing my best to squash them, but there’s only so much I can do. We need that report. We need answers.”

“Yes, ma’am,” nodding, Finn quashes down on the worry building in him. “I swear to you that I had no intention of hurting him or any of the squadron. I ordered them to leave, and they didn’t respond. I don’t know what went wrong, but I will find out.”

“I know you will.” Leia tears off another piece of bread and holds it out to him. “Made fresh, I think. That’s hard to find these days.”

“Thank you,” Finn says reverently. He brings the bread to his face, taking in a deep breath. It smells perfect. Like the flat bread that Poe’s father made when they visited Yavin 4 last year, just before the First Order attacked. Just before Kes fled and Finn relocated him and they’ve barely talked since.

That trip was one of the best weeks of Finn’s life. 

He takes a small bite of the bread, savoring the flavor on his tongue.

“Finn,” Leia’s voice is soft. “I know you’d never purposefully do anything to hurt Poe _or_ the Resistance. Don’t worry about me.”

Finn looks up at her, sees the sincerity in her eyes, and some of the worry unsticks from his lungs. He nods. “Your trust means a lot to me. I don’t ever want to lose it.”

Leia smiles at him. There’s a bit of breadcrumb at the corner of her mouth, and her hair, usually so ornate, has started to escape the bun she’s put it in today. The top button of her uniform hangs open.

“You’d have to do something pretty ridiculous, and if there’s one thing I respect about you, it’s that you’re considerably less ridiculous than everyone else around me.”

“It’s a point of pride,” Finn laughs softly. “You have to be a bit ridiculous to survive in the Resistance.”

Smiling, Leia tears off another piece of bread, smears some the jam C3PO brought onto it, and offers that to Finn with one hand. “You’ve adapted well so far. I expect you’ll only get better. Now, I heard you finally went to Endor a few months ago?” Her eyes glitter. “I thought we’d compare notes.”

* * *

The door opens just as Poe is going to turn to the next chapter of his shitty novel. He glances up with a protest to Kalonia already on his lips, frowning. “We already did the tests today, there’s—” but it’s not Kalonia. It’s someone Poe knows, whose name just barely escapes him: human, tall and fair and always a little too serious. He’s wearing the sea-green uniform of one of Kalonia’s assistants. Poe remembers seeing him in command olive, trailing after a few of the higher ups like a lost and very serious puppy. Damon? Deving? Something like that. Poe blinks. “Uh—hi.” 

“Dameron,” the man says and he strides over to Poe, pausing just before his bed to check on the IV connected to his arm.

Poe frowns at him and sets the datapad down. The needle twinges a bit— _Deming_ , he remembers all at once, and he’s definitely not a nurse. 

Well, he wasn’t. Poe doesn’t know much of anything anymore. “When, uh, when’d you start working in Medical, man?”

“Last year,” Deming says and he pulls a needle out of his pocket. He inserts it into the bag, eyes intent.

Poe bolts up off his pillows. “What is that? My painkillers are fine.”

“It’s something to help with the shock,” Deming eases the fluid into the IV.

“I’m not in shock,” Poe says slowly. “What is that exactly?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Deming removes the needle and smiles placidly at him. “Rest well, Colonel.”

“Vague,” Poe mumbles as Deming leaves the room, and curls his hand around the needle in his arm. It tugs and pulls at his skin, and stings a little as the new pale liquid blooms into the bag and then down the tube. 

“Finn warned me you might do that,” a soft voice says from he doorway. A willowy young woman stands there, her brown hair pulled back from her freckled face.

“I am popular today,” Poe mutters as blood trickles in a thin trail down his arm, annoyance flickering through him. He’s getting pretty damn tired of people he doesn’t recognize coming to his door. “Do what?”

“Refuse your medicine. Or try to escape,” the woman steps into his room, “I’m Rey.”

“I don’t need anything else numbing my head,” Poe says carefully, and wipes off the spot where the needle was. He watches Rey as the door shuts behind her. “You’re a friend of Finn’s?” And his, probably, but as far as Poe’s concerned he’s never seen her before.

“Yes. Good friends,” she takes the seat next to him, “how are you? Aside from not remembering the last few years. Your friends aren’t very good at keeping secrets,” she smiles slightly.

There’s something about her that prickles at the edges of Poe’s awareness. He sits up a little straighter. “There’ve been better weeks in my life.”

“I would hope so. I have a reason for coming here,” she says, her eyes on his face. “I’m training with Master Luke and he and I thought that your condition may have something to do with the Force.”

That’s it.

It’s the prickle in his head, the strange sensation at the base of his skull like water is trickling down his neck . She's strong in the force, and she's in training now but is a Jedi in all but name. 

The thread ends there. Poe makes a frustrated sound in his throat, tries to follow it, figure out how he knows her, but it's gone. 

He swallows, then makes himself meet her eyes. “The Force, huh.”

“It’s possible. It’s also possible that this is completely physical. However,” Rey leans in slightly, “if you want to check, I could probably be able to tell if anything affected you.”

Poe sucks in a shaky breath. He wants to tell her to leave, tell her _no way_ , he doesn’t need anyone else in his head right now, but she’s friends with Finn and she’s concerned about him, and Poe should really stop being an asshole. His fingers twitch on the covers, itching to curl into something, hold on tight. He keeps them flat. “It’s, uh. It’s good to re-meet you, Rey. Finn mentioned you’re a Jedi—you found Luke Skywalker? With the map?”

“Yes. Thank you, for that. I wouldn’t be with the Resistance without what you did, let alone in training. That’s beside the point,” she shakes her head. “Think about it. I swear I won’t look for anything else, if you want me to try.”

Poe considers it, biting at a corner of his lip. He’s tired already of the painkillers and the twinge in his ribs and the block in his head he can practically feel sometimes, and there’s no sign of anything except his wounds improving. Even BB-8 is getting frustrated with him. 

But the idea of letting anyone into his head again makes his breath come short. “What makes you think it’s Force-related?”

Rey seems to relax slightly, back in safe territory. “The clean break, for one. Amnesia, as I understand it, usually isn’t from a certain date or time. You lost everything after the Finalizer, right?”

“More or less,” Poe murmurs. "I remember that you're training with Luke. I don't even know what I don't know."

Her frown deepens. "I see. When you think about the last four years, what do you remember?"

Poe sucks in a slow breath. "I'm..." He tries, but all Poe can summon up is a few flashes of flying along the inside of a cave, watching the green-yellow sun rise over the tops of trees. It might be Yavin, though. Poe shakes his head. "Not a lot. I can't, the last clear thing I remember is Ren digging into my head."

“That’s the other thing,” she says, frowning slightly, “it’s a break from that point, from when you were touched by the Force in such an invasive way. I can’t think of another reason you would forget everything after.”

“I was in a crash,” Poe argues. He remembers a sunset on Kali. Or D'Qar. Poe doesn't remember getting here, or where his room is. He doesn't remember the medical bay even though he should, because inevitably he's been here before. “That has nothing to do with the Force.”

“No, but Finn told me about the crash and it sounds strange to me.  You’re a good pilot. A great pilot, and Finn is a good strategist. It’s unlikely that you would be shot like that. Not impossible, but,” she trails off, brows furrowed.

“Not likely,” Poe finishes for her. Some of the strange prickling feeling settles. He shifts to better face her. “So you think someone was ready for us. That sounds about right. They usually are. Don’t think I’ve flown a single mission where I managed to keep the element of surprise for long.”

“Exactly. I think that the First Order knew that we were coming, and that they wanted you for some reason. Fortunately, Jess and Snap got you out. I don’t have a theory on how this happened, just that it might have.”

Poe smiles at her for that. “That’s how all the good theories start. Okay—so you want to poke around in my head and see if there’s anything going on that maybe isn’t so medical?”

“Well, yes. If you’re alright with that,” Rey says seriously, meeting his eyes. Her sincerity is clear on her face, and that more than anything eases the fear that was starting to close around Poe’s throat. Somehow, he gets a feeling that he can trust her. Maybe that’s the Force, and maybe that’s because she’s good friends with Finn. Maybe it’s both.

Either way, Poe is tired of this already and it’s only been three days, so he swallows and shifts up to face her completely, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Alright. Let’s do this. Can’t be any worse than having Ren in there, right?”

“Hopefully it’ll be nothing like that,” her face twists in a grimace, “I know exactly how it feels. If it hurts, stop me immediately. It shouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll stop you,” Poe promises, frowning a bit. “You know what it feels like?”

Rey nods shortly. “You don’t remember that either. Ren caught me. He tried to force his way into my head. I was able to fight him, some.”

Poe’s mouth twists. “Better than me. I let him right in.”

“Jedi,” Rey reminds him with a tiny flicker of a smile. “There’s no way you could stop him. I, you and I have trained to help you protect your mind, now. But then? There were two Force users in the known galaxy. There’s no way you would have known how.”

“I grew up with a Force-sensitive _tree_ in my backyard,” Poe says with a snort. “I—” he cuts himself off with a sigh, shoving a hand into his sleep-messy hair. He needs to take a while sorting it out when he’s out of here: it’s longer than he remembers, and shaved along the back of his neck like his old military cut. Weird. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, huh? Let’s do this.”

Rey nods and holds out her hand for his, “Stop me if you need to.”

Drawing in a steadying breath, Poe reaches out and curls his hand into her. Her fingers are slim and strong and very warm in his. His own hand twitches, still aching from the IV. “Ready when you are.”

Rey grips his hand and closes her eyes, calm falling over her face.

For a minute, he feels nothing.

Then a light pressure moves into his mind, like fingers on his scalp. It doesn’t hurt, and is almost pleasant except for the knowledge that this is the Force. His breath comes short, memories of reaching fingers and the slimy feeling of someone prying through the parts of him, but just as soon as it comes up, it’s pressed down again by something warm. He knows to relax and let it in, let everything slip away. Poe’s breath evens out just as quickly. His eyes are closed, they must be, but he doesn’t remember closing them. “That—that you, Rey?”

“Yes,” she says softly anther hand tightens around his. The warm swells in his mind and a shiver runs down his body.

“Are you finding anything?” His voice comes out soft and a little shaky but Poe grits his teeth and tries to focus on not resisting, letting her in. She isn’t forcing it, but Poe still feels tense and tight, like he wants to bolt off the bed and press away from her. 

She holds on for another moment before the pressure eases and she loosens her grip on his hand. “No. Nothing telling, at the surface.”

The tiny bubble of hope that had been rising through Poe deflates abruptly. He swallows. “Don’t stay at the surface, then.”

“I don’t want to push you. That could do more damage than good,” Rey sits back, “would it be alright if I come back tomorrow to try again?” Poe wants to tell her _no, keep going, we have to fix this,_ because the idea of his head being one blank empty space for the rest of his life terrifies him more than he’s willing to admit, but Rey is right: pushing right now will probably only make this worse. He’s mature enough to see that.

Maybe he did need those calming drugs Deming had tried to give him.

Sighing, he lets his hand drop from hers. “Yeah, of course. Thanks.”

“Thanks for letting me try,” she smiles softly, “I’ll stop by tomorrow. Do you need anything while you’re here?”

“I’m good,” Poe says, tamping down on the acerbic response that flashes to his tongue. Somehow, he knows Rey wouldn't appreciate it right now. She's only trying to help him, and it won't do Poe any good to piss her off or sit here alone stewing in the knowledge that he doesn't have. Anyway, the only way to maintain Rey's progress is to keep trying.

“Actually,” he says, just as Rey starts to turn away, “how did we do that training you mentioned?”

Rey turns back to him with a real smile, “a bit of meditation, physical training, and mental training. We could start the mental part while you’re still here, if you like.”

Poe actually feels his smile this time. “Better than nothing.”

* * *

Rey falls back from Finn on the mat, her flared nostrils the only indication that any of this is making her break a sweat. She’s been sparring with Finn for going on three and a half years now and is still one of the only people that can match his endurance. “Giving up yet?”

“Not even a little,” Finn grins at her, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest heaving. He falls back into starting position, waiting for her.

“I would, if I were you,” Rey tells him and grins fiercely as she falls into her own starting stance. 

Finn waits, rocking on his toes, anticipating the moment when she’ll strike. Their eyes lock and Finn feels the knot in his chest loosen slightly. This is good. This lets him sweat and forget and spar with his best friend (Poe is his friend, but he’s also so, so much more than that). This lets out the pain, the fear, the guilt, the numbness that come with Poe’s injury.

And Rey’s been trying to help him as much as she can. They’re not just sitting back and doing nothing, Poe isn’t sitting around waiting for his memories to trickle back. But, of course he wouldn’t. Poe’s patience has never been one of his strong suits.

Rey tenses like she’s going to jump at him, but Finn’s seen this before: instead of coming at him, she takes a half-step back, tightened up like a coil. Her feint works on other people, but not him, so a moment later when Finn has gone tense, too, she springs, launching herself at him. He dodges out of the way, whirling around her and tries to catch an arm around her waist.

They spar until even Rey is panting a bit, sitting opposite Finn with her arms wrapped around her knees. They’ve gained an audience in the last half-hour or so: a few of the medical techs Finn’s sort of friends with, some of their ground troops, and Jess, who always turns up to watch Rey spar. She usually turns down a bout of her own with the same excuse Poe uses: “I’m a pilot, not a Pathfinder! Leave me out of this.”

She’s on the sidelines clapping as Rey drags herself up. “Did anyone even win that?”

Finn glances at Rey, sizing her up. He laughs, short and sharp. “No. We’re still tied. 56-56.”

“For now,” Rey says, and reaches out to poke him with one toe as laughter echoes around the massive room. All around them are the sounds of other people working out, and the slap of skin-on-skin as another pair spars.

“Nothing hurt?” Asks a new voice, so soft it’s almost lost over someone’s losing shout.

Finn glances up from his place on the mat and smiles thinly at Deming. “Nope. Nothing hurt. We’re good enough at this point that neither of us ever should be.”

Deming gives them both a look, raising one thin brow. “Have you heard any news about Colonel Dameron?”

“Uh. He’s about the same,” Finn frowns slightly, stretching his arms over his head. “His ribs are healing, fortunately.”

Deming nods and steps over the edge of the mat toward Finn and Rey. “And his memories?”

“No improvement,” Finn says softly, “he still thinks it’s four years ago, on the Finalizer mission.” Mostly. Rey had updated him after her first session with Poe: he has flashes of memory beyond that, they think, but nothing permanent, and nothing they can pinpoint. 

Something flickers over Deming’s face. His dark eyes soften in what might be sympathy, and after a moment he offers Finn a hand to stand. “I hope I can be of help to him on my rotations.”

“Uh, thanks,” Finn uses Deming’s hand to heft himself up. "You’re in medical?” He’s strong, but whipcord thin: a dedicated strategy officer who Finn’s worked with sometimes, and who used to do the filing for Medical but nothing more that Finn knows.

He releases Finn’s hand as soon as he’s standing, and after a moment, offers one to Rey. She ignores him and jumps to her feet in smooth movement. “Now and then. I like to keep myself well-rounded.”

“Understandable. I did that, for a while,” Finn agrees, glancing at Rey. Deming is his friend, of a sort. He’s direct and nice enough, but conversation never really goes past getting-to-know-you, even after four years of knowing him. Once, someone had called him by his first name and he’d stiffened up like a board, said in a sharp voice that he preferred to keep it professional, thank you. Hard to be proper friends with. He’s been with the Resistance longer even than Poe.

“I’m sorry,” Deming says quietly after a moment.  “ About Colonel Dameron. You led that mission.”

Finn fights to keep the small smile on his face. “Yeah. I’m working to address what might have gone wrong. It shouldn’t have been a hard mission.”

"I wish you luck in figuring it out,” Deming says with a short nod. “I’ll keep you posted, Major.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Finn returns, and he glances at Rey as soon as Deming turns around. She raises her eyebrows at him. Deming’s neat footsteps echo all the way out of the exercise room.

“I don’t get that guy,” Finn mutters, moving over to Rey.

She wrinkles her nose and reaches back to pull her hair free of its loops. “Me neither. I can’t tell if he likes you. What was that about?”

“I have no idea,” Finn mutters. He shakes himself, tearing his eyes away from the door. “Poe is fine. As fine as he can be.”

Rey nods and lets her arms drop. “He’s going to get better.”

“Good,” Finn says with confidence he doesn’t feel. “At least he’s willing to try. I thought he might be afraid, with… you know.”

“Kylo Ren torturing him being the last thing he remembers?” Rey fills in. 

“Yeah. That,” Finn glances at her, “he’s really okay?”

“He’s trying it even though it scares him,” Rey says quietly.  “Of course.” She bends to get her towel from the ground beside them.

“He’s scared,” Finn agrees softly, “I’m glad he’s doing it. But you haven’t found anything yet?”

Silently, Rey shakes her head. Her eyes are full of regret. “We’ve done it twice now. He always blocks me. Like he did at first.”

“Have you told him that? That  you can’t help him when he’s protecting himself like that?” Finn asks softly.

“He doesn’t even know how he’s doing it,” Rey sighs. “We’re working on his training again. The training we did before.”

“But he can still block you. Does his body remember?” Finn asks and his hand slips into hers.

Rey allows it, blinking at him. “He can still block me."

“Could you tell him that? Convince him that he can protect himself?” Finn’s voice is soft, and he feels for a moment that he’s tired. Tired of comforting everyone except himself. But he keeps the gentle smile on his lips.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rey says with a small smile of her own, and squeezes his hand tightly. She still doesn’t let go. Touch has gotten less rare, over the four years they’ve known each other, but Rey rarely holds onto his hand unless he really needs it. “We should just... go through a timeline of the last four years with him. See if it sparkes anything," she shakes her head, smiling. "Poe will be fine for today. I need food.”

“Let’s get lunch,” Finn murmurs. Rey keeps her hand curled in his as they walk out of the training room.

* * *

Poe spends half his sixth very boring day in Medical reading through one of the novels BB-8 brought back from Finn about a prince marooned on a remote planet getting rescued by a dashing rogue—which means Finn definitely knows about his sappy romance book habit—before he convinces Kalonia to discharge him with a tactic that’s always worked for him in the past: annoying her into letting him leave. 

It’s a little harder now, because somehow in the four years Poe’s lost, she’s become immune to his many charms. 

“You’ll come back to me after dinner for a check-up,” Kalonia instructs him severely, standing at least a few inches below him and glaring up in a way that’s always made Poe feel like a seven-year-old kid being lectured on A-wing safety mechanisms and why it’s not okay to “liberate” droids from their owners, no matter how unfairly they’re being treated, “and I’ve informed BB-8 of the sleep cycle you’ll need to be on until that concussion has cleared up. I want you to take the anti-inflammatories twice a day until they run out, and then we’ll reconsider. There are also painkillers to use at your discretion.”

Poe can only nod, staring down at the rainbow of pills in Kalonia’s hands: yellow antiflammatories, the tiny orange painkillers, a red one she didn’t address. “What’s that red one?”

“Deming mentioned you’d been using cortisone in addition the compounded anti-inflammatories to calm down,” Kalonia says as she puts the pills back into their pockets. 

Poe grimaces. “He did, huh.”

“Take them if you need them,” Kalonia says.

Her tone leaves no room for argument, and so Poe just salutes her and doesn’t even try. “Yes sir. I’ve got BB to keep me on track. What could go wrong? Where’d you say my room was again?”

< East wing, second floor, on the corner. > BB-8 pipes up.

Kalonia presses the clear tube full of all his pills into his hand. “If you feel anything strange, report back immediately. I mean that.”

<BB-8 will keep Friend-Poe from doing anything stupid!> trills  BB-8, and Poe snorts.

“Yeah, buddy, I know you will. You always have my back. You wanna show me the way?”

<Yes!>

His back twinges as he stretches. The medical droids had said it was from the crash and being in that bed too long, and Poe doesn’t remember that being an issue before but he supposes he’s closer now to forty than he is in his own head.

He’s skirting the edge of everything he doesn’t want to think about, now, so he focuses on BB-8 an the unfamiliar hallways. There are actual windows on this base, unlike the one at D’Qar, windows spilling from the hall leading from medical out into what looks like a lush green forest. 

“BB, what’s the time?”

<Midmorning! You slept in very late.> BB-8 tells him almost gleefully as it leads him down a smaller hallway lit up with greenish light.

Poe laughs. His throat still feels dry, but now that he’s not in medical he can feel that the air is different: heavier, more humid. Like the air on Yavin 4. 

Yavin 4, which is now under the control of the First Order, and he doesn’t have to actually remember it to know exactly what that is: a morale move, something to crush the hearts of the Resistance. No planet in Poe’s memory is more important to the Rebellion, more instrumental in the fall of the Empire.

He’s probably a little biased.

But his poor dad, forced off the home he’d with Shara for his small new family, the place they'd earned and loved on and lived in. Poe will have to go look at the cutting of the tree later, maybe see if he can contact Kes and see how he’s doing. How he feels about the whole thing. And there’s a whole new set of questions: why does Finn know so much about Poe’s life? Enough to assure him about the tree and his dad. Poe’s not a private person (at least, right now he’s not; who knows about this new Poe four years his senior and a Colonel?) but those aren’t things he goes around telling just everyone.

“Tell me about the base, buddy.” Poe says suddenly. BB-8 trills in question. “I either barely remember this place or don't remember it at all. Why’d we pick this particular cave system?”

BB-8’s eye fixes on him with entirely too much understanding. It beeps softly and launches into an explanation of the biology and strategic location of their position on Kali, as far as it knows. 

It carries them all way to what is apparently Poe’s room. Poe thinks that maybe he recognizes the hallways up until he doesn't, and then he just gets frustrated all over again. It's good to have BB's explanation to focus on. People that he doesn’t recognize keep call out to him the whole way there.  They’re in more or less the same uniforms they’ve always worn, but most of them are strangers.

It’s good to see, though, that he’s stayed on friendly terms with the base. Even Commander Neelin, who Poe never got along with for similar reasons he’d disliked Ematt, had come to visit him in medical at one point, inquiring endlessly about the crash and the mission and the conflicting orders. She’d seemed legitimately disappointed Poe doesn’t remember a second of it, though Poe is pretty sure that’s because Neelin  _lives_ for rules and regulations and not because she actually feels bad for him.

At some point, Poe is going to have re-learn everyone here. That, or actually remember.

 

For now, though, he has BB-8 tell him how to key into the room—it’s a new system he doesn’t recognize that pricks his fingers for chemical keys in his blood. “Damn, they got paranoid,” he mumbles to himself as the door slides open. At least it explains the rough pad of his fingertip.

The room is neat, neater than he’s ever kept his room before. Finn’s just dragging a quilt over the top of the bed when he looks up, his smile flickering into a bright grin. Rey stands opposite him, settling the pillow. “Poe! You’re up!”

Suddenly Poe is  _flooded_ with feeling like the rivers in the wet season on Yavin: filling up his lungs, swelling into his throat. He wants to cry, or wrap himself around this person he barely knows and press his head into Finn’s shoulder and stay there until the holes in his memory are gone, like Finn could fix everything that's wrong with him if Poe just stayed beside him long enough.

Poe almost has to clutch at the door with the sudden wave of feeling, leaving him dizzy. His head throbs. Swallowing past the feeling, Poe smiles, small and weak but there. Finn's eyes are full of concern. “I, uh, sweet-talked Kalonia into letting me go, long as I promised to come back after dinner tonight and follow her intense drug regimen.” He shakes his tube of pills for emphasis.

Rey quirks a brow at him. “She was alright with that?”

Poe shrugs, his smile widening. “More or less.”

“You never change,” Finn murmurs fondly. He tucks the quilt in with military precision, then turns around to look at Poe, like he wants to move closer. He stays where he is. “Are you, do you want to get more rest? We can leave you be. But we were gonna go get some food soon, if you want to join.”

“If I lie down again right now I’ll lose the rest of my memory outta boredom,” Poe says with a grimace. “Forgot to ask Kalonia if I should be careful around people. It's fine.” He glances at the door, thinking of all those faces he doesn't know, and has to fight back another wave of dizziness.

 

“We can shield you from the rest of the base,” Finn offers gently, picking out a jacket from the closet and handing it to Poe. “It’s off-hours anyway.”

Poe blinks, accepting the jacket on autopilot. It’s a soft green thing he doesn’t recognize. When he slips it on, it fits him perfectly, so it’s gotta be his. “’S probably the smart thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Finn’s fingers brush his, then twitch back away from him. He glances over at Rey with a twist in his expression. “Let’s go.”

Poe wants to argue, wants to tell them to just  _say_ whatever it is that keeps making them look at each other like that, but Finn’s his roommate and he needs to be nice and not a raging asshole just because he’s more than a little freaked out about his lack of memory and whatever the hell this feeling is that makes him want to wrap his arms around Finn to keep himself up.

“Remind me to grab your charging pad from Kalonia on the way back,” Poe tells BB-8 as they follow Finn and Rey out of the room. BB chirps an affirmative, sticking close by him.

Poe smiles down at it. At least that hasn’t changed. 

Everything else, though: everything else is different, and Poe can’t dislodge the strange twisting anxiety from his chest, the what-if thought that he’ll be stuck like this in a life he doesn’t recognize and can’t appreciate, full of half-memories that might not even really be, playing catch-up with things that he should know. Stuck in this body he doesn't recognize, with more grey and more lines. There's a twinge in his hip, right under a new starburst scar Poe thinks he got from being shot at in some alley by people who were supposed to be on his side, but he doesn't know where or when or why. 

His breath is coming quick again, he realizes, and they’re still in public, so he dives into the breathing exercises his dad taught him after Shara had died. Poe had only listened then because Kes had told him they were exercises he’d used on the ground as a Pathfinder to calm himself down again.

Before then Poe hadn’t even thought his parents  _could_ be afraid.

Hopefully Kes is doing well enough now. Poe really should call him later if they’re allowed communications. 

Fingers slip into his, gripping his hand just tight enough. Poe realizes all at once that Finn is next to him, and Rey is far ahead of them, turning the corner. Finn doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t even look at him, but he’s a solid presence at Poe’s side, centering Poe's scattered, racing thoughts.

“This is ridiculous,” Poe finds himself saying without even really knowing why: he doesn’t know Finn, he shouldn’t be telling him anything. “I know it’s no use thinking about what’s gonna happen.”

“No, but we both know you’re gonna do it anyway,” Finn smiles gently, still staring ahead. His steps slow slightly. “You don’t have to do this. I can bring you food in our room.”

“No,” Poe says immediately, sharp again. He sucks in a breath. “Man, no, I’m fine, just still short of breath. 'S fine."

Finn’s fingers tighten around his. He doesn’t say anything else, but leads Poe down the hallway. The scent of food, sharp and savory, gets stronger and stronger until Finn pauses in front of a large set of doors, only letting go of Poe’s hand to push one open for him.

Poe thinks of chattering voices and the smell of cooking grease and spices, and blinks at what he actually sees.

The mess is quiet, a large room in the corner of the base with more small windows lining the ceiling, letting in the dim greenish light—the product, BB-8 had informed him, of Kali’s very own gas giant, a supermassive green planet whose gasses make it hard to detect tiny Kali. It’s not a moon but a proper planet, but the planet, Galia-5, is big enough to dwarf all other activity in the system.

Poe feels a tiny bit like Kali, right now: walking in the wake of Finn acting like a shield against the eyes of everyone else in the room. There are only 20 or so people and Poe realizes with relief that he recognizes some of them and smiles a little when they smile at him.

“Kalonia said soft foods,” Poe says as they get up the counters, and immediately grabs a handful of fried root vegetables cut into chips, silently daring Finn to say something about it. Finn only laughs and doesn’t argue, although he does fill a bowl with soup and places that on Poe’s tray. His own tray seems too healthy, with vegetables and soup and protein.

“Man,” Poe says, and steals one of the soft-looking custard rolls from the end of the line, “live a little.” He plunks it down on Finn’s tray.

Finn snorts a laugh, but doesn’t complain. His eyes are bright when they meet Poe’s and he’s standing closer than Poe would have thought, his body angled toward Poe.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing Poe’s back. The touch lingers long after Finn’s hand is back on his own tray, warm and almost tingling on Poe’s skin.

He swallows, grabs a mug for caf, and follows Finn back across the mess toward the cart with all the accessories for his caf. Poe immediately dumps a mound of sugar in it. Maybe that’ll wake him up and he won’t feel every set of eyes on him, every slow slide of fingers like electricity on his skin.

“You don’t change,” Finn mutters, moving past him toward the table where Rey is sitting, reading on a data pad.

“So old me still drinks his caf the right way?” Poe asks as he sits down by Finn, stirring idly at the steaming liquid. 

“Sure, the right way,” Finn rolls his eyes, and his smile is bright and easy. “You know—well, you don’t know. You’re supposed to lay off that stuff. You already have enough adrenaline in your body.”

Poe lifts a brow. “I’m a pilot and someone thinks _caf_ is going to be the thing that kills me.”

Finn shrugs a shoulder. “If you can survive flying in the war, we want you to survive for a while after too.”

_We_ , he says, like he has a personal stake in it.

Well, Poe figures, if they’re roommates, they’ve gotta be close, so he probably does.

Either way: if people really have told older-Poe to stop drinking caf, what the hell does he drink? He’s always liked Yavin’s teas but those are probably in short supply right about now if Yavin’s controlled by the First  Order, and Jess’ teas are a little too floral for his tastes. How much caf has he drunk in the last four years that Finn wants him to stop?

“Caf is gross,” Rey volunteers without even looking up from her pad, with the tone of someone who’s said the same thing a hundred times before.

“Yeah, we all know what you think,” Finn tells her, and his hand hovers over Poe’s lower back before it drops back to the bench. “Just don’t drink too much, Poe. Your body isn’t used to it as much anymore. Not that you don’t sneak one every once in a while.”

Frowning down at his cup, Poe lifts it and takes a sip, and _wow_ , it’s sweeter and stronger than he remembers. He barely suppresses a grimace. “What do I drink now?”

Laughing softly, Finn shifts up off the bench. “I’ll get it,” he says and walks back to the mess line.

Rey looks up from her data pad, a crease between her brows. “How are you feeling? Other than the memory loss.”

Poe gets the distinct feeling she knows the answer already. He gets the same transparent feeling, like he’s being looked at down to his bones, his molecules, around Leia. Around Luke when he met him once, when Poe was younger and Yavin was his and people were still figuring out the new world they’d created.

“Fine,” he tells her, which is a lie, and her eyes narrow a bit like she knows it. Poe laughs weakly. “Alright, kinda like I got stepped on by a reek, but I’m getting there.”

Rey nods, like she completely understands that feeling. Maybe she does. “Try to let Finn take care of you. It helps him as much as you.”

“What?” Poe frowns at her. “I can take care of myself, memories or no. I’m sure Finn’s got better things to do.”

Her frown deepens, eyes fixed on his face. “He cares about you. You may not remember right now, but he does. Imagine if suddenly your father or your squadron mates no longer remembered you. You’d still want to help them.”

It’s a good point, but it twinges in Poe’s chest anyway. “How close are we, exactly?”

Sitting up, Rey leans in slightly, her expression breaking into something softer. “Very. You’re the most important person in his life.”

There’s something there in her words, but Poe’s head still hurts a little, even with the painkillers. He can’t focus long enough to figure it out.

This is gonna have to get fixed if he wants to fly again, memories or no. “…I’m not gonna say no,” he assures her after a moment. “But I really am. I’ll be okay. I’m always okay. That’s my thing.”

Smiling slightly, Rey nods. “It is.” She sits back just as Finn slides a mug in front of Poe and drops back down next to him.

It steams up into his face, warm and soft without any flavor at all. “Hot water is what I drink now?”

With a laugh, Finn’s hand slips into the pocket of the coat he’d given Poe, his arm around Poe’s back, and he brings out a bag that smells woody and smokey. “Not even a little bit. Here.”

It’s a pleasant smell, like the deep forest on Yavin 4 where the watchtowers stood, slowly rusting into the humid air. The stuff in the bag is dark, almost black, and crunches a bit when Poe pinches it between his fingers.

“Huh,” he says softly, and pulls out a bit that feels, for some reason, like a little too much. He lets a couple pieces drop back into the bag, then adds it to the hot water like he’s been doing it for years. The woody smell gets a little stronger with a new puff of steam. “New me’s got sophisticated taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, watching all the dark bits sink to the bottom of the mug.

“Sure,” Finn laughs. He’s watching Poe closely, sitting a little too close, his eyes a little too focused on Poe’s face. His hand is only an inch away from Poe’s hip, resting on the bench between them. “You’ll laugh at that when you do remember.”

He sounds so sure.

So confident. Poe himself doesn’t even feel that. Every time he thinks about all that missing time, all these relationships he’s clearly formed, habits he’s broken, friends he’s made, panic rises sharply up through his lungs.

It feels like he’s been slotted suddenly into someone else’s life and clothes and habits and everyone expects him to pick it up immediately but here’s Poe, drinking the wrong things and staying quiet at the wrong moments and making everyone look at him with concern, like he’s a small child again crying because Leia Organa said hi to him. 

After a second, Finn’s fingers brush the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the right thing to say.”

Strangely, the touch brings him back to reality a bit. Poe sucks in a breath. “Better than assuming I won’t, right? Remember.”

“You’re going to remember,” Finn tells him, sounding so sure. “If you don’t—well, we can go from there.”

“Dunno,” Poe mumbles, “sounds like I’ve changed a lot in four years.”

“In some ways,” Finn says softly, his hand covering Poe’s, “in some ways you’re the same as when I met you. So what if you’re a higher rank and don’t drink caf anymore, you’re still the best pilot in the galaxy.”

“Who crashed on his own damn planet,” Poe shoots back. “Real skilled.”

“That wasn’t entirely your fault,” Finn watches him, as if afraid of what Poe might think. “I shouldn’t have sent you on that mission. But you insisted.”

“It’s Yavin,” Poe protests, drawing up. “Of course I did.”

“And that’s probably why you got hurt. You’re too close to it,” Finn tells him quietly.

“There was a storm over Yavin,” Rey adds, setting down her pad again. “No one knew it was coming, and you knew it was the wet season. The storms were supposed to be milder. But something weird happened, and the First Order seemed to know we were coming.”

“The First Order can’t start a storm,” Finn says in a voice that means he’s said it before.

“The First Order seemed to know about it.” Rey sits up a little straighter, glancing at Poe like he’s going to back her up on this. “They were waiting for Black Squadron. They knew we were coming. Poe,” she turns to him again, and Poe raises both his hands.

“Hey, even if I was there, I don’t remember squat. Yavin has pretty predictable storms and that’s all I can tell you. I’ve flown in them a thousand times. I know how to ride them out. What,” he frowns, “what exactly happened to me? Kalonia said it was oxygen loss but couldn’t tell me details.”

“You were shot,” Finn says simply, which Poe knows already. “They hit your engine and it dislodged your air supply. You dropped without oxygen until you hit the ground.”

"Right,” Poe mumbles, remembering Finn's voice in the darkness. “You told me that.” Even his working memory has holes. His lungs still feel like sandpaper.

“They knew he was coming,” Rey mutters with a stubborn tilt to her mouth. 

“How would they have known?” Poe can’t help but ask.

“Someone might have told them,” Finn breathes with a deep scowl.

Poe curses under his breath as he takes a slow sip of his tea. 


	3. Chapter 3

Poe’s painkillers are too weak.

He crashes right after lunch, and when he wakes up that evening his lungs still feel like they’ve been scraped raw, and his ribs protest when he pushes himself out of bed. Kalonia’s usually more thorough than that. When he asks BB-8 about it, the droid tells him they haven’t had access to proper medical equipment for months and have been running on emergency stores.

It certainly explains the pinched faces of everyone in medical.

BB-8 can’t tell him why they’re running so low, so Poe resolves to ask Finn or Rey later if he can catch one of them. For now, it’s just him and BB-8 alone in their room with no plans for the evening. Poe has been informed under no uncertain terms that he is grounded until further notice, and that until his head is in a more stable state, he’s not allowed to do any paperwork, mission reports, or anything else of value.

“’s gonna be a shitload of paperwork piled up for me when I’m back to normal,” he mutters to BB-8, who chirps in that laughing way that it has. Poe rolls his eyes at it and finally shoves himself out of bed, yawning hugely. His jaw cracks and when he stretches, so does his spine.

It’s a smaller room than the one Poe had on D’Qar, but then, he’s apparently sharing this one with another person. The beds are pressed against the wall opposite the sliding door. Shoved haphazardly against the end of the more neatly-made bed is a desk, which has to be Finn’s, unless Poe’s penchant for working on the floor or in bed has changed sometime in the last four years.

It’s not impossible, but the neat state of the desk also does a fair bit to suggest it doesn’t belong to Poe. Over the back of the chair is draped another soft jacket, green and grey. Something pushes at the back of Poe’s throat and eyes when he looks at it too long, so he looks away. The adjacent wall on his left is entirely dedicated to their own private refresher. Even on D’Qar Poe didn’t have that.

There’s not much more to the room. Nothing on the walls, only a few pictures on the desk, and a small closet. He opens the doors, looking through the clothes that must belong to him and Finn. It’s odd: he can’t quite see where one person’s clothes end and the other’s begin. It’s also very neat. Either he’s really changed, or Finn does all the cleaning for him.

He picks out a shirt. It looks like it’d fit him, and he pulls it on over his head. The soft brown fabric clings to his skin.

“Guess I should go stretch my legs, huh?” Poe asks BB-8 with a small smile.

<And return for your first check-up! Friend-Poe slept too long.>

Snorting, Poe reaches for the grey-green jacket on the back of the chair, changes his mind, and grabs a black one from the closet instead, slipping it on against the growing chill. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go. Let’s take a tour first, huh?”

Poe quickly learns that the base is a lot bigger than the compact area they’d occupied on D’Qar. It sprawls through the underground cave systems, winding and twisting its way deep into the bedrock. It’s deep into second shift, when people are either sleeping or manning their stations, a skeleton crew that keeps the base running at night.

At first they head for the hangar with a half-formed idea about seeing something familiar, but Poe chickens out before they reach it. He isn’t ready to see the blank space where his X-wing should be and he’s definitely not ready to face his pilots again and deal with the concern on their faces.

Everyone he passes, in fact, looks concerned and greets him with something along the lines of pity and sympathy and hopes that he’ll get better soon. Poe recognizes less than half of them.

The relative silence of Medical, when they finally make it there for his evening check-up, is welcome.

Kalonia sends him back with slightly stronger painkillers and strict instructions not to sleep for more than four hours at a time. Poe grimaces at her.

When he keys back into his and Finn’s shared room the golden-yellow moon is just starting to sink low, visible high outside through the tiny window set at the top of the far wall. They share a room near the center of the base, at the edge of what BB-8 says was a long-ago sinkhole, and can just see the sky. It’s nice: Poe would probably go stir-crazy if he was trapped underground too long.

Poe manages to start one of the other novels Finn had recommended about some extremely boring girl trapped on a boring farming planet with a mysterious and overdramatic visitor before he passes out.

Dutifully, BB-8 wakes him up three times through the night to check that he hasn’t died, which means that when Poe finally wakes up at a reasonable time, his head is foggy and it takes him a long time to place where he is. One eye sticks shut until he rubs at it and all his limbs feel leaden and heavy.

Finn must have slept and then left at some point, because the pillow on the other bed is dented, though the rest is made with military precision. His boots are gone. Poe stares at the blank space for a long time and thinks of caf and the tiny waterfall on BB-8’s holo.

Poe reaches for the datapad he set aside last night with half a mind to keep reading, thumbs it open, and stops.

On top of a half-finished to-do list with cryptic items like “custard bread?” and “fix the damn stabilizers” and “Poe, don’t forget about the alloy” is a reminder one word: Dad.

Which, of course, is the reminder that Kes himself programmed into Poe’s datapad when he’d landed Black One on Yavin before heading out for his maybe-final mission to Jakku. A reminder to check in when he could, to connect, to make sure that across trillions of stars and lightyears and battles, Poe knew he still had someone to come home to.

Even now, it’s still in place.

Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, Poe presses at the little box holding the reminder. He doesn’t recognize the address code is brings up, but it makes sense that sometime in the last couple years it would’ve changed, and if Yavin was attacked and Kes is in hiding, it’s likely encrypted.

Poe has no idea what the hour on Kali means, and no idea where Kes might be, or what time it is, or what he’s doing, but he presses at the address with shaky fingers, words already bubbling up in his head. Kes will know what to do. Kes always knows what to do. Kes led him through picking the koyo crop, could fix any farm equipment that broke, always has words when Poe’s own fail him. The scars of Kes’ time in the rebellion still haunt him, and he’s taken more knocks to his head than anyone else Poe knows.

If anyone knows how to fix Poe’s head, it’ll be his dad.

He won’t look at Poe with barely-concealed pity, or skirt around the fact that he might not ever come out of this, or mince careful words until Poe feels like he’s going to scream trying to detangle it all. Direct, honest, straight to the point: that’s his dad, and Poe loves him for it.

It’s still calling. A few little dots ping across the screen and back again, over and over, showing a connection reaching out. Poe holds his breath, then remembers that he’d suffered enough oxygen deprivation and lets it go, then curses with the connection times out.

Kes is probably asleep, or busy. Poe doesn’t even know where he is.

He tries again with the same result, and it doesn’t even let him leave a message, which is bantha shit.

Frustrated, Poe gives up after four tries and tosses the pad back down onto the bed, nervousness and worry and anger roiling inside him. It takes him a few minutes of breathing exercises and frowning at himself for his mind to settle. He’ll just have to check with someone who might know where Kes is, figure out why the calls weren’t working. Maybe the codes have changed. There are a million possible reasons and very few of them are bad.

“Hey, BB,” he calls out. Instantly the droid is awake and beeping cheerfully at him, its usual good-morning greeting. It starts to ask about Poe’s head but he still feels cottony and strange and doesn’t want to deal with it, so he interrupts. “Do you know where dad is?”

BB-8 pauses in its usual circuits around the room, staring at Poe with its viewer. <BB-8 is not privy to that information. It is highly classified. BB-8’s processors are not a safe place.>

Poe curses under his breath. “What’s Finn’s schedule like today?”

Rolling closer, BB-8 rattles off, <Friend-Finn is on the morning shift today and will be available for lunch at 1100, and off-shift at 0300. Friend-Poe wants to see Friend-Finn? Friend-Finn will want to know about Friend-Poe’s interest!>

Poe can’t help but smile as he pushes himself up, yawning so wide that it cracks his jaw. “Yeah, go ahead and let him know. First, though,” he grimaces at himself, “I smell terrible.”

<BB-8 does not have olfactory sensors. BB-8 will take Friend-Poe’s word for this. Does Friend-Poe require assistance?> BB-8 rolls up to him, parking itself just past his knees.

“I should be able to handle it,” Poe laughs. He leans down to run fingers over BB-8’s dome, past the protruding wires. There’s a shiny bit nestled just behind where it must have gotten patched up. The grain of the metal almost matches, but Poe can see a subtle difference in the sizing. He rubs at the spot. “What happened here, buddy?”

BB-8 moves into his hand, like an animal asking for pets. <BB-8 was damaged during the crash.>

“This is good work,” Poe mumbles, imagining unknown hands on BB-8’s metal as he kneels down. “Who fixed you up?”

<Friend-Rey. Friend-Rey is an excellent mechanic.> BB-8 tells him. Poe pets it a little bit more, tugging BB-8 close for a second. He’d had to teach the droid what a hug meant after being zapped one too many times.

“Sounds like we both got a little beat up, huh? I’m glad you’re okay.”

<BB-8 is fully functional.> BB assures him and leans into his touch, something that it learned to do on its own. <Friend-Poe will also be fully functional soon.>

Poe huffs and leans his forehead into BB-8’s dome, listening to the whir and hum of its engine, the tiny click in the gears as it makes minute adjustments to keep itself upright. One lags behind the others by a few milliseconds. “Sounds like one of your sensors is still outta whack, though. You having any trouble balancing?”

<BB-8 is fully functional.> BB-8 repeats petulantly, rolling forward into Poe’s gut. Unprepared for the force of it, Poe falls back on his ass. He laughs at the droid’s immediate alarm.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he waves BB-8’s concern away. “Kriff, BB, you’re heavy. What do you say I freshen up, we go find Finn, and then I spend a couple hours getting your sensors all shiny and clean and calibrated?” The droid clicks uncertainly. Poe grins. “You know that means an oil bath.”

BB-8 perks up, whirrs excitedly and zooms back, then forward again. <Friend-Finn gives BB-8 oil baths, but Friend-Poe is better.>

Still smiling, Poe shoves himself to his feet, ignoring the twinge in his ribs and back. If it gets any worse he’ll just take the damn meds. Maybe. “So you finally conned someone else into doing it for you, huh.” BB-8 is particular about its maintenance. There was even a period where it wouldn’t let anyone but Poe touch it.

He, Finn, and Rey really must be close if BB-8 lets them both take care of it so well.

Stretching hurts too much, so Poe just cracks his neck and scrubs his careful way clean. He takes the time to shave for the first time in a few days, too, scraping away all the built-up stubble.

When he comes back out, BB-8 is still there waiting, never one for modesty. Poe ignores it while he gets dressed in soft black pants and a shirt that’s a little too big for him but doesn’t make his ribs ache, so it’ll work for now.

“Alright buddy,” he tells BB-8, twirling a little to show off. “Feeling a lot better. Let’s go find Finn.” If anyone will know highly classified information, Poe hazards, it’s Finn. Or Leia, but he doesn’t really like the idea of running to her asking after information he should rightfully have. Somehow it seems easier to ask Finn.

<Friend-Finn will appreciate your new look.> BB-8 tells him after scrutinizing him for a long minute. Then it rolls in a circle and heads for the door, keying it open.

Poe doesn’t have time to think about that weird remark because BB-8 races through the halls like a droid on a mission. Poe chases after it at a slower pace with laughter in his voice until they wind up in a hallway he doesn’t recognize from their tour.

Down here the air is warmer, a little heavy, and smells like wet stone. High-powered floodlights tacked to stone walls brighten the long hallway. Without wet roots clinging to them, they look almost naked. BB-8 informs him that they’re in the strategy and command wing, deep in the heart of the base, as they finally stop in front of a rusted metal door.

“It’s after 11,” Poe starts to say, “shouldn’t he be at lunch—” but then the door slides open and there is Finn, and Poe smiles before he really knows what he’s doing with himself. “Hey, Finn. BB and I were just looking for you.”

Finn freezes mid-word on his datapad. Blinking, he looks up at the pair of them, hovering just past his desk. “Hi,” he says, his eyes trailing up Poe’s chest until they land on his face. “You shaved.”

Heat and pride jolt through Poe at the look on his face—BB-8 wasn’t wrong—and he grins, maybe shifting a little and lifting his chin to show it off. “Yeah, about that: I do still shave, right?”

“When I make you,” Finn mutters, shutting off the data pad. “You look good. Uh, did you want to go get lunch?”

He wasn’t even expecting Finn to be free, but the idea makes him smile wider. “Yeah, if you have the time. BB here says you’re a busy guy.”

“I have a lot to do,” Finn agrees. He grabs a jacket from the back of his chair, shrugging it on. It looks familiar, soft brown and red leather, with a strange stitched-together pattern making jagged lines on the back. “How are you feeling?”

“You know,” Poe drawls, focused on the jacket, “I’ve had better days, but actually, not bad. You know we’re running low on a bunch of medical stuff?” The jacket looks like his lucky one, the one he’d worn thin and soft.

“We’re always running low on medical stuff,” Finn says wearily. “Are they, are you not getting what you need?”

“Huh?” Poe glances up at his face, taking in the tired lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He does seem tired, and busy, and Poe abruptly feels bad for lazing around in their room with a novel. There’s got to be something he could be doing. It’s his own damn fault for letting himself get shot down in the first place. “Don’t worry about me. It’s stressing Kalonia out. I haven’t seen her this bad since she signed up in the first place. She only had a nook in the base and some bacta patches for Medical.”

Nodding, Finn leads him and BB-8 out of the room and back down the winding hall. “Yeah, it’s not great right now. We had trouble getting new shipping routes when we moved bases. Most of our suppliers don’t want to come out this far, or can’t be trusted anymore.”

“And it’s a pain to babysit every supply convoy,” Poe finishes for him, frowning. “Man. Kali’s not that much farther out than D’Qar.”

“It’s far enough,” Finn says and he pauses before turning the corner, his eyes landing on Poe’s face. “You sure you’re up for the mess at lunch time?”

Poe frowns. He’s been trying not to think about it. Poe Dameron doesn’t avoid uncomfortable situations: he shoves himself in headfirst and deals with the consequences later. “I’ll be fine. Maybe the chaos’ll jolt something back where it’s supposed to be.”

“Okay,” Finn smiles softly and his fingers brush the back of Poe’s hand. “You don’t have to be brave in front of me. If you want to leave, we can leave.”

“I’m not,” Poe starts to protest, but he falls silent at the look on Finn’s face: knowing and earnest and fond, like Poe has tried that exact line of logic on him before.

His throat goes tight. “Uh. Maybe we could make it a picnic? Haven’t even been outside yet.” Easier to ask about classified whereabouts without people around, anyway.

Finn’s smile brightens. “Yeah. Yeah! Hey, BB,” he shifts back to look down at the droid. “Could you go get my blanket, the blue one?”

BB-8 lets out a long-suffering beep, its optical input zooming in on Finn. After a moment it zooms around and rolls off in the direction on their room.

“Man,” Poe watches as the droid zips around a corner, “BB really likes you. You didn’t tell me it got hurt in the crash. Is it really okay? It’s, uh,” he smiles sheepishly at Finn, “picked up a couple bad habits from me. Likes to overestimate itself.”

“And its awful language,” Finn points out, taking a step back. "BB could use some more work, but it’s good enough to keep going. We’re strapped for time and supplies. I’m, I’m sorry, Poe. I’m taking care of it as well as I can.”

There’s real guilt on his face. Reaching out, Poe squeezes his elbow. For a moment he wants to continue the movement, reach out to smooth away the crease in Finn’s brow with the pad of his thumb. “Hey, no, I know you are. Thank you. BB said you give it oil baths,” he cracks a grin, “so obviously you spoil it as much as I do.”

“It likes being spoiled,” Finn says softly and he sways toward Poe before he falls back and turns to look down the hall. “Uh, I can grab food. Anything you want?”

Poe bites his lip. “Seems like you have a pretty good idea what I like. I trust you.”

Flashing him a bright smile, Finn nods and ducks down the hall toward the mess.

BB-8 gets back with the blanket draped over two of its pinchers just as Finn reappears in the same moment, making Poe grin at both of them. “So do we actually get to see the sunlight?”

“I hope so,” Finn sighs and falls into step next to him.

* * *

“Hey,” Poe asks when he’s finished with most of the food Finn picked out, including a sort of pickled fruit compote over bread that smelled gross but tasted incredible enough to make Poe groan and steal some of Finn’s. They’re sitting up on top of the base, on a rock protruding from the jungle at the mouth of their cave. Up out of the trees, the view is spectacular. Poe’s hardly been paying attention to it, too consumed with hunger and worry. “You, uh. You have any where my dad is? Kes Dameron?”

“Kes?” Finn asks, glancing up at him. He sets down his fork. “Yeah, I know where Kes is. I helped evacuate him and the rest of the Yavinese refugees.”

Poe lets out a soft breath. “Good. Okay. How often do we check in with them? BB said even it didn’t know where they are—real secret, right?”

“Yeah. The Order wants them, now,” Finn wrinkles his nose, “you can talk to Kes. Your datapad should have the right credentials still. None of your access was revoked, I think.”

“Figured,” Poe mutters, and lets the roll he’d been halfheartedly picking at drop back to his plate. “Tried calling him this morning,” he tries to keep his voice light, but his eyes are locked on Finn, watching for any reaction that might tell him something, confirm the strange feeling that’s been settled in his belly since this morning, “but the connection wouldn’t go through. I couldn’t even leave a message.”

Finn’s brow wrinkles slightly. “That’s weird. Uh, let me look at it after my shift. He usually picks up.”

“If it’s the middle of the night there,” Poe says, hoping, “then not even me calling could wake him up. Dad sleeps like a rock. Any idea what the time difference is?”

“A lot,” Finn nods, “Something like 13 hours difference. So it’d be almost 11 at night, now.”

Poe straightens up, some of the tension easing. “And dad goes to bed pretty early,” he says with a small smile, “real early, actually. Says it’s a habit from his Pathfinder days. Sleep where he can get it, all that kinda stuff. He always used to get up before the sun,” he elbows Finn, “bit like you, actually. Don’t worry about it, I’ll call him again later.”

“Okay,” Finn relaxes a little and gives him a small smile. “Try him tonight, around 8 or 9. And you can use my datapad, just in case your credentials are messed up.”

Poe laughs and leans back on his hands. “You got any better novels on that thing while I’m at it?” Galia is just visible on the horizon over the trees, a yellow sphere at the base of the green-tinged sky. It’s pale in the bright light of their resident star. A soft breeze rustles the treetops, sending up the occasional flock of gorgeous birds with flashing blue-and-purple wings. Poe’s hair flies all over his face and the wind ruffles Finn’s jacket, snatching away his flimsy fork. Poe catches it before it can fly off into the trees and presses it back into Finn’s hand with a smile.

“Thanks,” Finn murmurs, their fingers brushing before he returns to his food, a healthy mix of vegetables and vat-grown proteins. “Have you tried The Love of a Jedi yet?”

“I haven’t,” Poe says, smiling wider, and leans back to watch another flock of shimmering birds take flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! We are back. Back with a sad Poe and his sad thoughts. Next up: a date!


	4. Chapter 4

Finn hovers outside of their room, nibbling on his lip. Nerves wrack in his gut like they did the first time that Poe took him out, like that first day that Poe kissed him after they traveled the circumference of D’Qar together, Poe showing him everything there was to see from the jungle to the plains to the small ocean (really more of a large lake). They held hands. Poe smiled at him in that sweet way that Finn learned later meant that he was nervous too.

Finn almost kissed him that day, at least five times on their stops, but he wasn’t sure, still didn’t know if this was just how Poe was: friendly and affectionate. Until they landed back on the base, pressed tight together in the cockpit of Black One, and Poe twisted around, pushed Finn’s helmet off, and kissed him hard on the lips.

It had been perfect.

Now he’s taking Poe out for what, to Poe, is the first time. What if this time Poe doesn’t like him? What if their relationship was some fluke, or some leftover sentiment from Finn helping him escape from the Finalizer?

Slowly, he raises his hand to knock.

“C’mon in!” Poe calls a few seconds later, echoed by BB-8’s soft, pleased beeping.

“Actually,” Finn says, hovering outside. “I was coming to take you out.”

Something rustles and BB-8 beeps again. It’s a few seconds before the door slides open.

Poe is, naturally, covered in grease: it’s smeared blackly at his temple, and there’s a shining bit of the golden bath-oil on his cheek. His hair seems to be slicked back with it.

“Hey,” he says, smiling that crinkling smile, warm and soft. “Just in time. BB-8’s as good as new, huh, buddy?”

The droid warbles an affirmative, pleased and bright, from behind Poe, and peeks its dome around Poe’s knees to beep up at Finn.

“Wow, BB, you look great,” Finn drops down, still outside the room, to admire Poe’s handiwork. “Too bad I was gonna ask you and your dad to come into the jungle with me. That’d get you pretty filthy again.”

<BB-8 will stay on the base.> The droid replies crisply as Poe laughs and scrubs a hand along his cheek, smearing the oil even more.

“Well, one of us is clean, anyway. What’s a little more muck, right?”

“I was going to go to the waterfall. You wanna come?” Finn tries to keep the uncertainty out of his voice, instead smiling up at Poe. His breath catches in his throat.

Poe looks radiant, his hair a mess, wearing Finn’s shirt that’s too big for him, grease and oil highlighting the curve of his cheek, the cut of his jaw. Finn wants to kiss him, or wrap his arms around Poe and drag him down onto the floor, cherishing every beautiful inch of him.

He’ll do that. He’ll do that when Poe has his memories back. When Poe knows who he is, knows what they are to each other.

For now, Poe is smiling at him and biting at his lip again and saying “Hell yeah, let’s do this,” in that excited tone of voice he gets whenever they’re about to do something stupid. “Let me just grab my boots. How far is it? Is Kalonia gonna kill me for doing this? Hope you know I’m blaming you.”

“Uh, it’s pretty far, but it’s not hard, really. I’ll help you if something’s gonna hurt your ribs,” Finn pats BB-8’s dome, then shifts to his feet. “I have some snacks in my pack, so we should be good.”

“You all good, BB?” Poe asks the droid, because he’s always considerate like that, and he and BB-8 are more dedicated to each other than some of the humanoid couples on base.

<Friend-Poe should be careful not to sustain further injury.> The droid says, giving Finn a skeptical look.

“Promise I’ll take care of him,” Finn says easily, hefting the small bag on his back. “If nothing else, I can carry him.”

Poe’s eyes dart to Finn, widening a little like he’s actually thinking about that. “Yeah, BB. Don’t worry about me. I got this.”

<Friend-Poe always says that!> BB-8 insists, but it does roll back from Poe’s legs and around into the hallway. <BB-8 will be in the hangar. Do not do anything stupid.>

Laughing, Poe shoves himself away from the door. “When have I ever done anything stupid?”

BB-8 warbles threateningly, stares at Finn for a long moment, and then rolls away as Poe sinks to the ground to tug on his boots.

Finn tries not to watch him, but he can’t help himself. It’s safe, at least for now, to let his eyes trail over Poe’s back, over his strong arms and calloused hands. Finn misses the feel of them on his skin. Poe takes great pride in being able to drag any sound he wants from Finn with those fingers, and he always looks delighted, even after all this time, when he gets the reaction he wants.

His fingers are a little less deft on the laces of his boots, but he gets it done and stands, still smiling. “Let’s do this thing. Anything else I need?”

“We could go swimming,” Finn says carefully, “if you wanna bring anything for that.”

Poe’s brows dart up. “What’s wrong with just getting rid of what I’m wearing?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a towel,” Finn laughs, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Poe’s. He’s seen Poe naked more times than he can count. It’ll be fine to go swimming with him.

He pointedly doesn’t think about the last time they went swimming together.

Grinning, Poe ducks back into the room toward the attached ‘fresher and emerges a minute later with a stuffed rucksack tossed haphazardly over his shoulder. “Anything else?”

Finn smiles, “Just yourself. Let’s go.”

* * *

  
“Okay,” Poe jumps down off the log maybe a little harder than he intends to. It twinges through his chest, but he ignores the pain, focusing on the green-tinged form of Finn ahead of him, pushing his way through some leaves. “So the second book you gave me.”

“Which one?” Finn asks, glancing back at him as he holds aside from leaves for Poe to pass.

“The Lonely Heart,” Poe says with a grimace. “It’s crap, man, have I gotten that desperate? I mean, the main guy is a complete asshole! Literally, zero redeeming features.”

“Really?” Finn asks, sounding too innocent. “But that’s one of your favorites! You didn’t like the scene with the deer?” Poe whirls around, walking backwards through the leaves.

“He ate its face in front of her! What the hell!”

“You didn’t think that was romantic?” Finn asks, reaching out a hand to help keep Poe steady on the log. Poe takes it without thinking, letting Finn keep him upright with one hand braced in his.

“It was creepy as fuck is what it was! If that’s what new-me is into then you need to sit me down and have a long chat about what’s romantic and how not to get fucked in the head by war. Romance is bringing someone tea when they’ve had a long day or, or spiriting someone away for a surprise picnic or something, not eating an animal to prove how dangerous you definitely are, but oh, don’t worry, I’m only going to eat this deer, not you, soft and squishy undefined species who is inexplicably in love with me even though I’m the biggest ass in the galaxy.”

Finn’s careful expression cracks and he lets out a loud laugh, dampened only by the humid air. “Poe, Poe, okay, you hate that book. You-now and you, well, now. I just, I wanted to see if you would hate it as much again. I got weeks of commentary on it. Weeks. But you finished it, last time, and gave me a whole dissertation on why it’s the worst book you’ve read and how it’s poisoning young people’s minds.”

“Please don’t tell me this book is popular,” Poe says immediately.

“Extremely,” Finn says solemnly, squeezing Poe’s hand. Poe uses him to jump down off the log, wincing again. Finn is still watching him with warm amusement in his eyes and Poe smiles ruefully at him.

“At least my literary opinions are a universal constant.”

“And it was just as fun this time,” Finn agrees, following him down with a graceful hop. He lands close to Poe, pulling him in for a moment before he seems to remember himself and glances away.

Poe can just feel the thud of Finn’s heart in his palm before he releases his hand.

“You’re kind of a sadist,” he says quietly, under the calls of unfamiliar wildlife high above them. “Inflicting that on me for your own amusement. I bet you like that book.”

Shrugging a shoulder, Finn continues on through the underbrush. “I don’t dislike it. It’s fun.”

“You tell me how being a dick to someone until they like you is fun!” Poe jumps over a few rocks to follow after him, shoving aside a massive plant with blue-green leaves like blades. It scrapes his hand; he ignores it. Somewhere in the distance is a low rumble Poe recognizes: water. They’re getting closer.

“That isn’t fun. The book is fun,” Finn flashes him a smile, “and you don’t have to give me your consent talk. I know you want to, but trust me: I’ve heard it at least ten times.”

“Eleven isn’t gonna hurt you,” Poe laughs, but he scrambles a bit to catch up with Finn. “What kind of books do you read? Besides trash. Unless it’s all trash.”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. I usually read what you recommend,” Finn hangs back until they’re walking next to one another. “And I read books about strategy and tactics.”

“Thrilling,” Poe says dryly. He laughs at the look that earns him. “I used to hate reading, actually. ‘Til I got BB. You, uh-- you probably knew that.”

Finn’s steps slow slightly. “No, I didn’t, actually. You didn’t like reading?”

It makes sense, Poe guesses, that Finn didn’t know that about him. He still doesn’t quite know how close they are, and Poe keeps that to himself, along with a lot of detail about his childhood. “Nope. Hated it. I loved to listen to the novels but I couldn’t focus long enough to actually sit down and read. Too jittery. Not enough to do with my hands.”

“So how’d BB help you fix that?” Finn asks, pushing back another sheet of vines to let Poe through.

Suddenly, the sound of the waterfall hits them, washing over them loud and crashing and the air is even hotter and wetter. Mist floats through the massive trees around them, settling gently on Poe’s cheeks and hair. He’s smiling before he really knows it, slipping past the trailing vines and through a massive fern covered in reddish spores. They get all over his clothes, but he’s covered in crap by now anyway: it doesn’t matter.

“BB wanted me to read to it,” he says distractedly, only half-following the thread of the conversation. It looks so much like Yavin 4: bright green and lush and exploding with life, the rush of water. Yavin 4 had low waters and not many cliffs, at least the area Poe grew up in. More rivers and deltas than waterfalls.

The sound of the water is soothing. He and his dad used to go out in the long low boats onto the rivers to catch fish and harvest gold-orange lantern pears from the trees at the edge of the water. Another curtain of vines hangs off a tree ahead, and Poe tugs them aside for Finn this time, flashing him a grin. The vines slip wetly along his palms.

Finn brushes by him with a matching grin and it feels like Finn’s hand touches his hip, but he might have imagined it.

The pool, leading into a deep river, stretches out in front of them. Finn pauses on the edge, his chest rising as he takes a deep breath.

The waterfall roars in Poe’s ears like an engine, echoing through the forest around and muting even the sound of his own breath. It’s so high that from down here, they can barely see the top of the cliff stretching darkly up in front of them.

Now that Poe is here, he sees that it’s really two waterfalls on a sharply-angled cliff: one branch tumbles from on high, plunging into a yawning dark cavern at the base of the cliff, and one on the other side, running along a more sloping face until it too jumps off the rock from a lower height into its pool below. Moss and clinging plants climb the slick rock between the two falls, turning the whole thing green.

“Wow,” Poe breathes as he comes to a stop beside Finn and cranes his head back.

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, his hands tightening around the straps of his pack. He’s close enough that Poe can still hear him under the crashing water. Mist floats around their ears, cold and damp, and curls at the ends of Poe’s hair.

Beside him, Finn is warm and solid.

“So,” Poe says quietly. “Wanna jump in?”

Finn shoots him a grin. “Definitely.”

* * *

Poe jumps in immediately. Finn sits on the edge of the pool, stripped down to his shorts, a soft blue material that stretches over his thighs. A few dripping green leaves stick in their own moisture to his shoulders, wet in the mist of the falls. Poe’s own clothes sit in a haphazard pile beside him.

Poe swims up to a rock just below where he’s sitting and braces his arms on it, hefting himself, dripping, half out of the freezing water. “C’mon, man, get in! Colder’n space. It’s great.”

“Yeah,” Finn smiles at him, his foot weaving lazy circles in the water. He pushes himself up, hands slowly dropping to the waistband of his shorts. Finn seems embarrassed, which Poe gets—not everyone has as little shame as him, after all—so he looks away, up at the roaring white water.

Poe was raised more or less in barracks. Naked bodies have never bothered him, and his own less than most: it’s the sum of the parts of him, limbs and tan skin and curls from his mother, shoulders and nose and grin from his dad. His dad tells him when he was little, Poe used to hate putting on clothes, and would escape into the jungle in his skivvies, up into the trees, so they called him little naked monkey and even when his parents stopped calling him that, the town never did.

He looks back at Finn just in time to catch the smooth arc of his dive into the pool, the long line of his legs as they slip into the water.

When Finn comes back up, his hair and face are wet and he looks more than anything like one of the slick, massive otters from Yavin’s rivers.

“8 out of 10,” Poe calls over the roar of the waterfall. “Entry was great. Very little splashing. Your legs came apart, though, so I had to dock points.”

Finn’s answering laughter is drowned out when he kicks back with enough force to send waves of it at Poe, knocking him off his rock.

“7 out of 10!” Poe calls, spluttering, and launches himself at Finn. With a yelp, Finn lurches back and turns over to swim away from Poe as fast as he can. “6 out of 10!”

Poe is usually faster than this in the water but this water is colder than he’s used to and his ribs are screaming at him from the effort, so he only manages to catch Finn’s heel and yank, laughing through the water.

“Poe!” Finn cries out. He kicks his heel, but Poe keeps hold of him and tugs, dragging him back through the water.

Poe tugs until he can just curl his toes into the pebbled bottom of the pool. When he lets Finn go, Finn goes under and floats back up less than a foot away from him.

Poe’s breath catches. “5 out of 10,” he amends. A bead of water slips from Finn’s temple along the line of his nose.

“And I wasn’t even trying,” Finn sighs with a smile, drifting on his back until he’s too far from Poe. He surges up again and dives into the water, disappearing under the surface until a moment later he’s next to Poe, splashing Poe as he laughs.

“Alright,” Poe laughs, shoving a wave of his own back at Finn. “You got cocky with that one—” he splashes Finn again before he has time to get away, grinning when the water hits his face. Finn sputters and he sloshes his hand blindly through the water, a wave hitting Poe in the chest. Poe splashes back with greater force and completely misses, making them both collapse into the water, laughing. “I’m having you court-martialed for insubordination. Can I do that? I want to do that.”

“Technically yes but most of the base loves me,” Finn smiles lazily, his eyes half-shut, “you’d have a hard time getting them all to believe you.”

“I bet even BB would defend you,” Poe narrows his eyes at Finn and pushes himself forward until he can touch the bottom again. “This is unfair.”

After a moment, Finn rolls over in the water and dives back down again, slower this time. He bursts up a few feet from Poe, the sun shining off his glistening skin.

Poe freezes.

“Your back,” he breathes.

Crossing Finn’s spine is a jagged scar, pale-pink and stark on his skin. It starts at his shoulder and runs in a line down across his back. It’s well-healed, definitely old, but something that big had to be deep, too.

Poe thinks of Lor San Tekka for a moment, and swallows.

“Uh,” Half-turning in the water, Finn meets his eyes. “What? My back? Oh,” Finn’s face twists in a grimace. “That. I’m fine.”

Poe reaches out for him, cold fingers trailing briefly over the starburst scar on Finn’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“I,” Finn starts, but he doesn’t get further than that, his eyes falling shut, shoulders growing tense.

“Um,” he tries again. Poe wades closer. They’re near the edge of the pool somehow, standing on pebbles and a few brave plants that can survive the pushing current.

“You don’t have to tell the story,” Poe assures him quietly.

“No, it’s okay,” Finn says quickly. He takes a steadying breath. “I, it was on Starkiller. I, Kylo Ren attacked Rey and me. I fought him, but he got me. Sliced my back with his lightsaber.”

“The First Order’s death base,” Poe fills in after a moment, Finn’s voice in medical coming back to him. Lor San Tekka flutters up again, and Poe shoves him away with a twisting frown. “Kylo Ren got you too.” Still holding onto Finn, Poe shifts closer, tracing over the rough skin on his shoulder with soft fingers, muted by scarred skin.

“Yeah,” Finn stays still, letting Poe touch him. Poe wonders if he can feel anything under that scar or if it’s dead skin. How long it took to heal. “You can look at it, if you want to.”

“Lightsaber to the back,” Poe murmurs, frowning. He slides his palm back up, pushes gently at Finn’s shoulder to get him to turn around again completely. “Ren’s lightsaber wasn’t the neatest thing.”

“No,” Finn agrees, moving with him until his back is to Poe. “I’m lucky I recovered. There was some time there where, where we didn’t think I would. But I’m alright now. Fully recovered.”

Poe’s fingers trail over the curve of his shoulder, following the jagged line down over his shoulder blade, his ribs, across his spine and down under the water, stopping just above his hip. It’s deepest there, dark pink where there should be brown, skin puckered over. It carves an irregular pattern, marking Finn’s skin like a badge, like armor.

The water around them both is still shockingly cold, and the current laps at their skin in steady waves.

Shivering, Finn lets him touch and look. Poe doesn’t think he’d let anyone this close to something like this, but here Finn is with his head slightly bowed and goosebumps trailing in the wake of Poe’s fingers.

“How long?” Poe can barely hear himself. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s barely speaking, or because the waterfalls are so loud.

Turning his head so he’s closer to Poe, Finn says, “four years. Took one to fully heal.”

Poe follows the sweep of his spine back up above the water. “A whole year. Damn.”

“Yeah. It was hard, but,” Finn shifts, his fingers sliding into Poe’s. He tugs and turns around until Poe can see his face again. “Now I can help the Resistance. I can help fight the First Order and take down Ren. That’s worth the recovery.”

“It is,” Poe agrees softly. He watches Finn for a long moment, rocking a little with the current. Finn’s eyes are soft and gentle, holding Poe’s gaze like he’s trying to tell him something.

Poe has no idea what, though. Finn looks so serious: there’s a tiny scar at the top of his lip, a little pale thing, maybe shrapnel or some old scrape.

He wonders what the story is, there. There’s time to ask but for some reason, Poe can’t find the words. His eyes flick between Finn and the white waterfall behind, water tumbling heavily over itself.

The problem of being without words to say is not one Poe is used to facing. He squeezes Finn’s hand, feeling the solid warmth of his palm, and wonders at it.

* * *

The sun filters warmly through the leaves of the few trees brave enough to plant their roots next to the waterfall. Finn stretches out on his towel, body bare except for the droplets of water resting in the creases of his skin, the flat plane of his stomach, an arm behind his head, his eyes closed and content.

A few patches of dappled sunlight, muted by the mist, flit over his cheeks, highlighting the curve of his nose and the edge of one ear.

Poe can’t stop staring at him. He’s still chilled from the water, so much colder than the sun-warm rivers on Yavin 4. Kes had taken him up into the highlands once: mountains and plateaus with tiny streams bubbling up from between the rock, warm from being below the earth. They’d spent a week camped beside the hot springs and came back smelling sulfuric.

And Poe knows he has to stop thinking about Yavin 4 and its forests and trees and his home, because he starts to wonder and that’s the opposite of what he needs right now.

His head is too-crowded with thoughts. Frowning, Poe flips over onto his side. “Ever stood under the waterfall?”

Finn’s lips quirk into a smile. “You want to?”

“The smaller part,” Poe clarifies, glancing at the falls. “Not the part that goes underground.”

“Good call,” Finn laughs and rolls onto his side. “I don’t think I’d survive if I let you get sucked underground.”

“BB’s wrath is instantaneous and terrifying,” laughs Poe as he shoves himself up on his elbow. It’s good, strangely, to see Finn smiling. “You don’t stand a chance.”

“BB, Pava, Wexley, the whole red squadron, the General, the mess staff, all of the droids,” Finn lists off, eyes bright, “I’d have a mob after me.”

Poe snorts. “I really don’t think General Organa’s joining any revenge mobs over me. Not her style. She’d get you quietly. You wouldn’t even know.”

“That’s worse,” Finn points out and he pushes himself up, holding out a hand for Poe. “C’mon, I’ll protect you from the waterfall.”

“My very own bodyguard,” Poe lets himself be tugged up, laughing. “I’m honored.”

“I’m very experienced in fending off waterfalls,” Finn promises him, squeezing his hand. Poe grins at him. Already his racing thoughts are settling again.

“Waterfalls being a serious source of danger in my life.”

“Oh, definitely,” Finn keeps their hands locked and leads Poe over to the edge of the water again. They’re both still naked, but Finn seems content to ignore that in favor of smiling at Poe. Poe’s starting to think he was wrong about Finn being shy.

He moves comfortably in his skin, scars and all, and either doesn’t notice when Poe stares a little too long at him or doesn’t care.

Poe’s willing to bet it’s the second one, based on the smile he gets when he drags his eyes back up to Finn’s face. The knowledge tugs at him.

Finn stops just before they get into the water, turning on the slick rocks to face Poe. His lips move, but the water is too loud to hear him. Poe has to lean closer just to catch the edges of his sentence, but even so, he can’t quite pick it up, and frowns.

“If you’re warning me this is a dumb idea, I know that already.”

Finn shakes his head and his fingers just brush Poe’s cheek before he lets go and dives back in with the same even grace.

For a moment, Poe stays frozen on the shore, watching Finn’s dark form glide under the water until the bubbles from the falls obscure him entirely. Poe thinks of the otters again.

Finn pops back up with a challenging grin, and Poe can’t let that slide. He readies himself, toes digging into slick moss and stone. He bites his lip, waiting for the current to push Finn just a little farther down—and there. Poe jumps into the water after him with the splash aimed precisely for Finn, feeling the power from the falls knocking into him as he slams down into the bubbles. Finn reaches out for him and tugs Poe up from the water when he gets close enough. His palm slides questioningly over Poe’s ribs and away. They both have to tread hard just to stay where they are. Water rushes all around and past them, slamming into Poe’s chest.

His ribs do ache, but Poe’s mentioned the waterfall and it’s going to happen, damn it. He’s never let this stuff hold him back before.

Poe shakes his head. “C’mon on,” he shouts over the roar of the falls, “let’s get up there!”

Finn nods back with a grin. He tugs on Poe’s hand to get him moving, then lets go to swims toward the waterfall. Poe has to remember to ask later how far these things actually fall. The force pushing back on them is immense but through sheer stubbornness, they get close enough to brace themselves on a massive boulder only a few feet from the crashing water. Panting and squinting into the spray, Poe steadies himself against the rock. Finn isn’t touching him anymore, but he’s there, just a foot away from him, looking completely content to stay there in silence. This is probably as close as Poe needs to get, flattened against stone with water pounding against him.

The sheer power of it fills him up from the inside out: fierce cold and a roar loud enough to shake his bones. Poe can just see the shape of Finn on the rock beside him, head tilted up and eyes closed like all this doesn’t bother him at all, like it isn’t the slightest bit terrifying that they could be slammed into the rock to die or shoved downstream forever, tumbling into endless rocks until their breath is gone for good. Fear lurches at Poe’s stomach. He lets his eyes drop shut.

There was a time on Yavin 4 when he was young but not too young, a year after his mother had died, where Poe went looking for her in the jungle.

He hadn’t framed it that way at the time: it was his dad’s birthday in a week and Poe hadn’t gotten him anything, and there was a fruit like a lantern pear but sweeter and redder whose name Poe hadn’t known which only grew close to the water on a few rare trees.

The year before Shara had gotten Kes an entire basket of them, and they’d made fruit cobbler that had stuck to Poe’s face and hair, sticky-sweet and staining, and there had been so much that they couldn’t finish it all even though Poe had wanted to, so they’d saved it. Two days later, Shara had died: something in her brain, nothing heroic, no blaze of glory. A quiet passing into another world where Poe couldn’t follow her.

They had given the rest of the cobbler away, and Poe had raged and raged.

He’d thought a year later that maybe they would try again and he would get the fruit this time, trying to step into his mother’s long-reaching shadow. He’d pushed past trees and ridges he had named into jungle he didn’t know and memories of his mother chased after him like insects: the smell of her hair and the feel of her hands over his in the cockpit of her A-wing and her voice soft in the evening as she told Poe stories of the heroic Rebellion and a princess who had led them all through the darkness.

When he’d reached the spot the fruit grew, marked on the small map he’d gotten from an older man in town, there were only a few left: the birds had eaten the rest and the few that were left hung on high branches over the water and Poe, angry and so full of memories he was buzzing with them, had flung himself yelling onto the trunk, startled the birds away, and inched out along the branches to try for what was left, and then: then he went too far, and the branch snapped, and he fell down into the quick river below.

The second his head went underwater, it was like flying: all the other thoughts rushed from his head except what to do next, how to get out of it, and the rush of water in his ears and for the first time in a year or so Poe had felt something like peace through his panic, trying to get out of the river with his mother’s voice ringing clearly in his ears, giving him instructions: hands here, feet there, put your head up and take a breath, forward. By the time he’d managed to climb out he was soaked through and shivering and his own name was echoing through familiar jungle in his dad’s hoarse voice. He’d lost the fruit somewhere in the river, but by then it didn’t matter.

Now, under the falls, all Poe can hear for the first time all week is his own breathing, and barely even that: everything else is blocked from his head. He grins brightly at Finn, giddiness swirling warmly through him, replacing the sick lurch of fear. He’d survived it once.

Anyway, Finn is here, and that’s more comforting than anything else.

Poe closes his eyes again and shoves himself off the rock into the spinning current.

Finn doesn’t follow, but when Poe looks back, Finn is watching him, looking fondly after him. He moves further back into the waterfall until he’s a blur under the spray.

Poe’s ribs twinge, pain flaring up his chest. Instead of swimming, he lets himself be carried to the edge of the pool again, floating until his back scrapes against another the rocks of the shallow beach on the other side.

He lays there for a few minutes, at peace in the water, with the waterfall crashing in the background.

Then he feels something brush his leg and Finn bursts up from the water, sucking in a breath. He pushes himself onto the rocks and grins down at Poe. “Was it everything you wanted?”

Smiling lazily up at him, Poe flips over and lets his elbows scrape on the rocks. “Did new-me tell you about the time I almost drowned when I was a kid?”

“No, and I’m starting to wonder what else I didn’t know about you,” Finn says. His fingers move toward Poe, but then stop and he drops them back on his thigh.

Poe inches closer, pressing down on the rock until his ribs stop twinging. “Poe Dameron, intergalactic man of mystery. I was—I think 9, or maybe I was going to turn 9 soon,” he doesn’t quite remember, and isn’t even sure why he’s telling Finn, but Poe is languid and a little hazy, and his mind is quiet for the first time in days. “I wanted to get this fruit for my dad’s birthday. It’s a very long story, but it only grew deep in the jungle over the water, and there was only one left after all these birds picked the rest. I was so angry that I wasn’t thinking, so I tried to get the last one, out over the river. The branch snapped under me, threw me right down.”

“Oh. Did your dad come to help you?” Finn asks and he reaches out again. This time his fingers push Poe’s hair back from his face.

“When he found me,” Poe grins. “River carried me halfway back to our house.”

“Poe,” Finn tugs on his hair, then lets go quickly. “That’s not funny.”

“It is actually funny,” Poe protests, still grinning. “Not at the time, but it’s definitely funny now. River took me all the way back, and I didn’t even get the damn fruit. Got sick for three weeks.”

“Kes must’ve wanted to kill you,” Finn says, but he’s starting to smile now. His calf brushes Poe’s ribs.

“You know, I’m honestly surprised he kept giving me meds.” Finn seems to know his dad well. He’d helped evacuate Kes from Yavin 4, Poe remembers him mentioning. “You’ve met my dad, right?”

Finn nods, his gaze drifting back out to the waterfall. “A couple of times.”

Poe wonders what Kes thought: Poe, bringing friends home from the war. Or maybe they met somewhere else, or Kes came to the base. “Where?”

“On Yavin 4, once,” Finn says, his voice just audible over the falls, “and once to relocate him, after the First Order attacked Yavin.”

So Finn did come home with him at one point. Which means he’s seen the home Poe grew up in, the tree and the jungle and his mom’s old A-Wing, maybe, still in the shed behind the house covered in trailing lianas.

Poe realizes abruptly that he can’t feel his toes. “Hey, gimme a hand. I’m going numb down here.”

Finn looks back down at him. It takes him a minute to process what Poe said. Then he’s scrambling up and holding out his hands for Poe. “Oh, shit. Yeah, come on.”

All at once Poe is presented with all that skin, still damp from the water. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes on Finn’s face as he reaches up, syrup-slow with cold in his limbs, to curl their fingers together. Somewhere over the trees behind Finn, the sun rides low in the sky, haloing around Finn’s head until it looks like he’s glowing. A few beads of water wink at Poe, bright in the sunlight.

Finn’s hands are warm in his.

Poe’s feet, though, are numb enough they aren’t cooperating with him. He frowns, knees dragging in the wet pebbles with a scraping sound. It’s only with the judicious application of several curses and Finn tugging at him that Poe manages to get onto his feet. Finn pulls him close, supporting his weight while feeling slowly seeps back into his toes. The rest of Finn is just as warm as his hands, arms around Poe like they already know the curves of his body, his fingers in the small divots behind Poe’s hips.

It’s only after a moment of that that Finn steps back. His eyes are downcast, drops of water trickling from his hair down his cheeks and neck. Poe can just see a pink undertone to Finn’s cheeks.

“Uh, how are your feet?”

“Wet,” Poe answers automatically, fascinated by the heat flooding Finn’s face. Poe is still cold and beside him Finn is like a furnace, warm fingers going straight past Poe’s skin. Goosebumps prickle along his arms.

“Come on,” Finn grips his hand and tugs him out of the water and off the rocks, holding out his arm for Poe to use.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Poe drawls, amused. He uses Finn as a brace anyway, because he’s strong and solid and there and Poe is definitely feeling the effects of the probably 1000 cubic meters of water hitting him every second for a solid two minutes.

“Hey,” Finn says softly, holding Poe tight, “wait here a second.” The ground is soft and wet under his bare feet, moss crowding the edges of the banks in the mist from the falls.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures Finn, wincing a little as he stands up straighter.

“I know you will be,” Finn says, but he doesn’t let go, “but there’s no reason to push yourself.”

Poe gives him a sideways look, smiling. “Sitting under a waterfall is pushing myself enough for one day. Thanks for getting me off the base, by the way. I was gonna start dismantling BB and putting it back together if I had to sit around much longer.”

“BB doesn’t deserve that,” Finn’s hands slip down Poe’s back, stopping just above his ass. Poe can’t see his face from here, only the strong curve of his shoulder. This close, Poe can feel more than hear the rhythm of his breathing. Water collects at his fingertips as he skims his hand up Finn’s arms, draws him closer until their lips are only a few inches apart and bodies pressed together, skin-to-skin.

Poe wants, for one startling, strong moment, to lean up and close that small gap between their mouths. Finn’s hands sear right through him, resting solidly on the small of his back and Poe’s own heart pounds under the roar of the falls, oddly muted.

His mouth is dry.

Finn’s eyes are on him, dark and intent and full of worry for his friend, because he’s close enough to Poe that he knows Poe tends to push himself past his limits. Heat stirs in Poe’s belly and Finn’s gaze flicks down to his lips.

Poe swallows, eyes darting away. “You’re a good friend, buddy. Thank you.”

Finn opens his mouth to reply, then shuts it. “Yeah. It’s no problem. Um,” his voice is hoarse and the sureness of his grip on Poe weakens. Slowly, he steps back, his fingers slipping to Poe’s arm instead of his waist, “we should get back to base before it gets dark.”

Poe misses the warmth of him almost before he pulls away, and has to stop himself from going after Finn. He doesn’t know anything about himself now. Finn had said something about being engaged, Poe thinks—his memories of the first few days are sort of hazy, but he’s pretty sure he remembers something along those lines.

And the sun is starting to sink low in the blue-green sky. Poe thinks that it was only just morning but maybe they’re in the season of shorter days, or maybe all the days are short. BB-8 might have said something about but Poe can’t remember that either. He wraps an arm around himself, shivering. “Good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a date \o/
> 
> But you probably got that.
> 
> :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New title who dis

“This mission,” Jess groans, her head dropping onto her data pad. For the last forty-five minutes they’ve been doing nothing but going in circles trying to figure out what went wrong.

Leadership wants to reconvene to go over Finn and Deming’s reports again in only four days. Four days to make a full report, figure out what went wrong, and prove that whatever did happen, Finn had nothing but good intentions.

For all the good they did everyone.

In the absence of Poe, though, the rest of Black Squadron has stepped up to Finn’s defense in an effort largely led by Jess. Together with their techs and droids, they’ve been keeping the rumors about it all to a minimum, which is no small feat: word travels fast in any military organization, whether it’s supposed to or not. In the more freely-structured Resistance, any really good piece of news usually gets around in a couple of hours.

The idea that Finn might be a traitor after all this time is really interesting news.

Even usually level-headed Snap is starting to show his frustration at the giant gaps in their knowledge, all the unknowns they’re working with here, and the general sentiment around the base. Finn is chased by whispers wherever he goes. Black Squadron can’t be everywhere at once to head them all off.

“We just have to think about it more logically,” Snap mumbles, listing down on his hand beside Finn. “Write out everything we don’t know, and then try to fill in the gaps.”

“Or everything we know. We don’t know what we don’t know,” Finn shoots him a tired smile, “and what we know is a lot less than what we don’t.”

Sighing, Snaps pulls up a new sheet, his stylus hovering over his pad. “I don’t know how Dameron got himself shot, or how they knew we were coming, or why in the name of the Force people can’t keep their kriffing mouths shut with baseless speculation. Okay. So what do we know?”

“We anticipated a clean run and didn’t get one,” Karé volunteers. “There were a lot more troops there than expected that somehow didn’t get picked up on our scans.”

“They knew we were coming, or were more prepared than we thought,” Finn says, “and they have a way to hide their troops on Yavin.”

“They’re actually using Yavin 4 as a base,” Jess points out, sitting up again. “We thought this was mostly a morale move when they first invaded, but if they had that many TIEs, they’re actually there for some reason other than pissing us off.”

Karé frowns at her. She looks like she hasn’t slept properly in a couple days, her bright hair flat against her head. Even her normally-crisp uniform has a few wrinkles. “Good point. Yavin 4’s a good base location. That’s why they picked it back in the Rebellion. Yavin itself hides a lot. Maybe that’s what hid them from us?”

Nodding, Finn writes this down too, frowning at the screen. “We should know more about the planet. It’s been neutral and Resistance-friendly territory since the end of the war. There may be things that we never found.” Things that Poe might know of from growing up there, exploring the trees and the old bases. There are things that a boy might find that soldiers wouldn’t.

“R2-D2 probably has maps and intel,” Iolo, who’s been quiet up until this point, volunteers. “About Yavin 4, I mean. They did a lot of scouting before picking Yavin 4 as a base. And the First Order hasn’t taken over the old Rebel base. That mission took us over what used to be an unoccupied stretch of jungle.”

“The First Order scouted?” Finn asks, glancing over at him. “Or we did? Do we know why we made the decision to go there?”

“The Rebels did,” Iolo corrects in his soft voice. “I’ve read over the logs from the original scouting missions. Back then Yavin 4 was mostly uninhabited. The old Massassi temples made the perfect built-in bases so they could run a tighter, leaner operation. Most importantly, it’s so close to the gas giant that the atmospheric interference that makes for those intense storms also makes tracking and scanning difficult. More than anything, the Rebels needed to hide.”

“And now the First Order is hiding,” Finn mutters and lets out a breath. “Okay. That’s good. I’ll see if R2 has those initial reports. We also know that they have a fleet of TIE Fighters on the surface. That makes it dangerous to try and get down there at all.”

“Kes Dameron might be a good resource,” Snap says slowly. “He was a Pathfinder. I bet he knows a lot about the surface of Yavin 4 that might help us out.” His eyes flick to Finn as he says it, like he’s waiting for the reaction to bringing up Poe’s dad.

“It’s a good idea,” Finn nods once. They still haven’t managed to get in contact with him. Poe tried again when they got back from the waterfall, but the line still wouldn’t connect. Finn hasn’t actually seen him since then.

“So,” he says slowly, looking at the group around him. Their faces are tired, pained, and determined. “If you remember anything else, tell me. I’m going to bring a draft of this to Organa in the morning.”

“Thank the stars that’s over with,” groans Jess as she shoves herself up. Every joint in her body cracks, making Karé groan.

“That’s gross, Testor.”

“You came in late, you don’t get to complain,” Jess fires back. “Finn, you’re coming to the mess with us. I think they still have food left.” They don’t seem to plan on letting Finn eat alone: he’s been accompanied to every meal today by at least one member of Black Squadron or Rey, or both.

“Yes, sir,” Finn says, as he always does with her, and downloads everything they were working on to his data pad before shutting it off. She offers him a little smile, falling into step beside him as they filter out of the room.

“And you’re gonna watch a holo with us after before you get back to work.”

“You know I have to write up this whole report, right?” Finn shoots her a smile, even though his eyes are down on the data pad, reading through his notes.

“So write during the holo!” Jess waves a hand in front of his words. “Come on, you’ve barely relaxed all week.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Finn mutters and turns off the data pad.

“And it isn’t good for you,” Jess continues like she hadn’t heard him at all. “Gonna fall asleep in a meeting in front of General Organa and she’ll never let that go, believe me.”

“I think it’s because you snored,” Finn reminds her with a grin.

“My mom says I snore like an Endor butterfly,” Jess sniffs, delicate as anything despite her heavy footfalls beside Finn. Her boots weigh more than anyone else’s, as part of Jess’ ongoing quest to have thighs that could kill a person if she was angry enough.

“Uh huh. Sure. Because I haven’t heard you snore when you crashed on my bed,” Finn nudges her with his elbow. His chest still feels heavy, but it’s good to have Jess here, forcing him to talk.

Jess nudges him back significantly harder, laughing aloud. “That was BB-8.”

“BB-8 snores like,” he makes a few long, drawn out beeping noises, then devolves into giggles. Jess is already lost, her laughter echoing down the long hallway in front of them as Snap calls out “Pava, you snore like bantha and you know it!” which only makes her laugh harder.

“But you’re right,” Finn says when she calms down. “I do need to relax. Can you, uh. Can we not talk about Poe? Tonight?”

Jess’ eyes flicker over him, sharp and knowing, but she doesn’t hesitate in nodding. “’Course. We’re watching The Prince of Kon Torra with all the explosions and shit. Snap got a bootleg copy.” They’ve been cut off from supplies for weeks now, so the pilots have had to get creative with their usual rowdy get-togethers.

“Oh,” Finn brightens up, “I wanted to see that one. You guys talk about it enough.”

Jess flashes him a wider smile. “Prepare to have your world expanded.”

* * *

“Dameron,” a hand slaps Poe on the back, then Snap winces. “Oops. Your ribs are still busted, right?”

"And bruised,” Poe breathes, wincing as pain spirals through him. “You always know just where to hit, man.”

“It’s a skill in battle,” Snap says apologetically. “Sorry, man. Uh, pain killers?”

Grinning at him, Poe wraps an arm around Snap’s shoulders and yanks him down to his own level. “I am on so many pain killers right now. Still kicking in. My head’s all kriffed up.”

They’re in the hangar, long after everyone else should be in bed. The rest of Black Squadron and Finn are watching some holo. Even BB-8 is with them. Poe has no idea why Snap isn’t, but he’s glad: he was stuck with a rusted old shell of an X-wing and his own thoughts and neither of those are pleasant right now. The poor ship has definitely seen better days: the fuselage half scrap, the right engine completely blown, and Poe hasn’t even made it to the wiring on the inside. He’s a little afraid to.

And his thoughts are all of Finn and the damp slide of water droplets in the hollow of his collarbones, his soft teasing smile and the press of warm fingers at the small of Poe’s back.

Poe isn’t even going to go there.

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Snap mumbles, letting Poe keep him close. He’s tolerant like that. “But at least you remember me. I’d be hurt if you didn’t.”

“How could I forget that face?” Poe coos, twisting around just enough to plant a big, wet kiss on Snap’s cheek.

“You never could,” Snap starts to shove him away, then stops and more gently pushes himself up. “You wanna get out of here?”

More than anything.

Poe grins. “Baby, you know I’ll go anywhere with you.”

“I forgot you did that,” Snap laughs, holding out a hand for him. “Finn hated it. A lot.”

Poe wonders for a moment as he curls his hand into Snap’s, lets himself be tugged up covered in grease out of his ship’s innards. People keep taking his hand: Finn, Kalonia. Snap, now.

It’s nice. Poe has to try not to feel patronized by it, but it’s nice. “Finn hated it?”

“He’s not used to the friends flirting thing,” Snap explains. He lets go of Poe’s hand as soon as his feet are on the ground. “So,” Snap claps his hands together, a smile building on his lips. “You wanna go up?”

Officially, Poe is grounded on orders of Medical. Adrenaline jolts through him at the thought of being in the air again, feeling gravity fall away underneath them. The galaxy is a simpler place in the cockpit: controls and balance and fuel gauges, and the horizon in front of him. Poe misses the ozone taste in the back of his throat more than he ever has. “I always knew you were a genius. Kriff, yes, let’s go—you gotta tell me about these X-wings, man, they’re so different.”

“Definitely,” Snap’s hand slides onto his shoulder and he leads Poe toward another X-Wing, “this one’s my girl, Daphne. She’s a sturdy one, tough, and, man, you should see her engines.”

“Show me when we’re back on the ground,” Poe breathes, and narrows his eyes as they pass her at some of the bolts. “Does she have a T-50 body? Modded to the wild and back?”

“Yes she does,” Snap laughs. He leads Poe past the X-Wing to another ship, a busted up old shuttle. “We’re gonna take this one. Only one that they don’t care if we fly around without orders.”

“This old girl’s still alive?” Poe laughs as they come up on the shuttle. It too has been modified almost past recognition, but Poe remembers this shuttle from his first days with the Resistance, that hooked nose and overmassive engine he and Jess had attached together, dodging sparks and laughing hysterically while their droids grumbled.

“Still kicking,” Snap agrees. He hefts open the hatch, holding it for Poe, “I can’t let you drive, but going up is better than nothing, right?”

Poe narrows his eyes as he jumps up onto the wing. “You got responsible.” Snap’s gotten older, too: he’s a little thinner and a little broader in the shoulders, and there’s grey dotting his beard a few points matching the silver at Poe’s temple.

“I’m a married man now,” Snap follows him, the hatch snapping shut behind them. “Karé told me I have to. You’ll know, uh.”

“Yeah,” Poe drawls, watching Snap shift uncomfortably with no small amount of amusement, “Finn mentioned you finally got your shit together and said yes.”

“You all had an intervention,” sighing, Snap drops into the pilot seat. “Said that you’d all mutiny if I didn’t do it.”

Grinning at him, Poe slips down into the seat beside him and pulls the straps down, excitement tingling through him. Or painkillers. Possibly both. “Well, your reasoning was dumb.”

“I know,” Snap smiles and he flicks the ship on, settling in his seat, “at least, I know now. I don’t regret it even a little bit.”

He was at the ceremony, Finn had said, but of course, like everything else, that’s gone, and Poe has slipped four years into the future with no idea how he got there, into a body he only half-recognizes: softer around the middle than he was, and with a thicker streak of silver. More stubble, less caf.

Sucking in a quiet breath, he settles back into the creaking chair. “How long’s it been?”

“Almost two years,” Snap has a fond smile on his face. The ship hums to life around them. “I need to think of something for our anniversary. Finn said he’d help me. Never would’ve thought it, but that guy’s a romantic.”

“Yeah?” Poe breathes, staring at Snap. “I—I can see that. Being a romantic.”

Snap glances at him, smile wide and easy. “Bet you could. He thinks I should take Karé to Corcusant for our anniversary. Told him that might not be the best idea for us.”

Poe is consumed, for a moment, with trying to imagine solid, easy Finn surrounded by the glittering lights of Corcusant. The engine hums comfortably beneath them as Snap goes through the preflight protocol. She used to sputter, before: they must have done more maintenance to get this smooth rumble. “You and Finn are pretty close?”

“Not as close as you and me, if that’s what you’re asking,” Snap reaches out to pat his arm.

“You know how I get jealous,” Poe curls his hand up and squeezes Snap’s for a moment, smiling at him. “Seriously, though. I’m happy for you. I’m sure I already told you that.”

“You did. At least twenty times on my wedding night,” Snap’s laugh is drowned out of the roar of the engine, purring much more steadily than it ever did before. The ship moves beneath them and they’re off the ground, moving slowly out of the hanger. Snap’s always been a ridiculously competent pilot: smooth and easy and quick to follow any direction Poe gives him (or, the reason he got his nickname: snap at them all over the comms about what a dumb move this is, and then do it anyway).

“She moves so well,” Poe breathes as they slip out of the gaping cavern and up into the night air, lights reflecting off the trees. It’s a well-camouflaged base: Poe can see that as soon as they get up above it. Swallowed entirely by trees, the base fades into the shadows as soon as they’re away from it.

“We’ve been working on her when we’re grounded,” Snap tells him, his hands moving surely over the controls. He tugs at the stick and it doesn’t jam, and Poe grins over at him.

“At least I didn’t wake up to a shitty future.”

“Hey, the war’s still going. That’s not great,” Snap’s eyes meet his for just a moment, “but the rest… yeah, it’s good. Good friends. Good leaders. Good cause. Wouldn’t trade it for much besides peace.”

“I had hoped it’d be over by now,” Poe agrees quietly. “Galaxy’s always been good at underestimating the First Order, unfortunately. Good thing they underestimate us, too.”

“We’re gonna get them,” Snap assures him. They ease above the treetops, skimming above them, over the river and the waterfall, over the darkened land, quiet in the absence of civilization aside from them.

Poe relaxes back into his seat, something in him easing at the easy flightpath, the drag of the atmosphere on the hull, the feeling of being just a little closer to the stars. “How long have we been saying that? I don’t even know anymore, man. It’s been, stars, a little over a week? Nothing.”

“Your memories?” Snap asks gently, “you’re gonna get them, man. You’re going to.” They bank a little to the left, around a tall cliff stretching up ahead of them. Poe can just see the thin golden ribbon of the waterfall shining in the moonlight. He thinks again of Finn’s smooth form slicing through icy water and swallows around the sudden answering heat.

“You don’t know that,” he mutters, frowning down at the console blinking soothingly in front of them. Absently, Poe notes that the shuttle is at half-fuel. They should probably do some work on the stabilizers, too; Poe can feel the slight wobble under the wings as they curve over dark trees. That kind of observation that doesn’t sit on the surface of his thoughts anymore. He trails his hands over the smooth metal and says, “Nobody does.”

Snap is quiet for a minute. He turns them in a smooth arc above the waterfall, back toward base the base and the rising sun, the pale echo of the gas giant along the horizon. “You’ve got to have faith,” he finally says.

“No shit,” Poe snorts.

Silence lapses. Snap’s attention is on flying, even though this is an easy flight. Somehow, Poe has been up all night, trying whatever he can to tamp down on the rising anxiety, the tiny whispering voice in his ear asking what if it doesn’t work? what if you’re stuck like this?

Poe is a pilot for a reason: he likes the thrill, the adrenaline, riding low in atmo and feeling the drag and the press of air and then defying it, the thrill of power under his control.

He doesn’t at all like the idea that the only thing that makes him Poe Dameron, his head, his memories, the life stretched out behind him like streaking stars in hyperspace, might be gone forever. That he might forever be something of a stranger in his own damn life, outside of the memories he should rightfully be a part of.

His head still feels as cracked and broken-open as it did when Kylo Ren was in there, sifting through his memories between long fingers, picking up the bits he wanted and discarding the rest. It was two weeks ago, four years ago, and Poe’s starting to blur between them.

He swallows and sinks down into his seat, exhaustion settling over him all at once. “I’m trying.”

“Hey, man,” Snap takes them up a little higher and the horizon stretches, bright with the green sunlight, “I don’t think you can force it. It’s not your fault you can’t remember.”

“Maybe not, but the fact is that I can’t and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better, and I don’t,” Poe’s voice shakes apart. He stops, swallows, tries to snatch it back from the air around them. “It’s like—Finn, right?” Finn. Finn, with his bright smile and soft warm eyes and easy camaraderie with BB-8 and everyone else in Poe’s life, Finn a glaring hole in a life Poe can otherwise somewhat piece together. “I don’t know him. He knows me. I’m a guest in my own damn life! Stumbling around, trying not to kriff it all up too bad for when I get back—but who knows? I don’t even remember your wedding.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Snap says honestly. “You’ll get to know Finn again. He’s a good guy. And I can show you a vid of it. We can fill in the gaps, for now.”

“Shit,” Poe drops his head back against the seat, feeling the creak of the leather. “There’s nothing you can say. There’s nothing anyone can say. Either it’ll get fixed, or it won’t.”

“I’m here for you. Memories or not, you’re still Colonel Poe Kriffing Dameron, hero of the Resistance. You’ve got me and all of your pilots at your back. You haven’t lost any more of us since—”

“Since L’ulo,” Poe says, and for a moment remembers that long, wry face with a pang. Still here. Still around them, with them, atoms and energy. Maybe his memories are the same way.

Snap makes it sound so simple. That’s what Poe’s always liked about him: he can distill anything down, make it easy for anyone to understand. Snap would make just as good of a Squadron Commander as Poe, he’s always thought.

His words ease some of the clawing anxiety trying to twist all of Poe’s organs into knots. Snap doesn’t deserve this anyway. Sighing, Poe sits back up. “I know. I know I do. Always there to keep me in line, right?”

“You know it,” Snap laughs and his hand is back on Poe’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Can’t let you get too full of yourself.” Feeling a little pathetic, Poe leans into his arm, glad for the grounding contact even in the middle of the atmosphere, trailed by clinging clouds.

“At least that never changes.”

* * *

Poe goes back to their shared quarters sometime after breakfast the next day, foggy-headed and exhausted, but victorious. The wiring was exactly as much of a terrible disaster as he’d thought, but with BB’s help and Snap’s acerbic commentary Poe had managed a start of it, anyway. He probably needs to eat at some point.

“That ship is a disaster,” Poe says as the door pricks his finger—again, kriff, that’s annoying—slides open. He smells like oil and ozone and sweat but at least he’s been working, and feels significantly better than he had last night.

Finn glances up from the desk where he’s hunched over a datapad, his hand braced on his forehead. “I know. I’m sorry, Poe. I meant to go work on her…”

“Hey, no,” Poe waves his hand as he door falls shut again. “That’s my job. Just,” he sighs and falls down on the first bed, the one with a dark green coverlet tucked neatly in at the sides. Finn’s bed. He shouldn’t sit here, he’s gonna get oil all over everything. “She’s gonna take a lot of work to get into flight shape, poor thing.”

“You’re kind of excited, aren’t you?” Finn asks with a tired smile, his head cradled in his hand.

Poe grins down at his knees. “Little bit, yeah. You really do know me well.” Which makes it a hundred times worse that Poe, with no idea of their history, no context for Finn’s life, has been thinking about him like this. The wet curve of Finn’s shoulder, warm brown against cool green, is seared into his dreams. He swallows. “How’s it going?”

Finn shrugs a shoulder. “I have to finish my report on the Yavin mission soon. It’s… not going well.”

Poe doesn’t know why he says it, there’s nothing he can do and they both know it, but, Finn sounds about as tired as Poe feels right now, so he asks: “Can I help? Written a lotta reports in my day, y’know.”

“Technically you were there,” Finn says with a flicker of a smile. “Sure. If you want to.” He shifts up, eyes skimming over the page.

“Technically,” Poe mutters. “Alright,” he stands and crosses the tiny space to the desk, hovering over Finn’s shoulder. “What’s the holdup?”

“I’m having trouble being objective,” Finn admits, shifting to let Poe see the text. “I don’t know how to frame it.”

“The whole mission?” It’s well-written, concise and neat, but as Poe skims over the first paragraph of the report itself he can see what Finn is talking about. He’s too close to the whole thing, to the people in it. “Yeah, alright. This is going to Leia, right?”

“All of them,” Finn grimaces, “especially since it didn’t go as expected. They need to see what we did wrong and my recommendations. Deming is working on one too.”

“Well you got the recs part down pat,” Poe says with a smile, flicking down to the bottom where Finn’s recommendations for the next mission and the interim are laid out more neatly than he ever wrote them. “I dunno that can help with the objectivity. Leia usually combs down my reports before sending them around.”

Finn’s lips quirk, “because you write too much.”

“I illustrate the scene for those not present,” Poe protests. “I include relevant details—anyway, I don’t know that this has to be objective.”

“It does,” Finn says, his stylus tapping on the desk. His eyes are fixed on Poe. “I insisted that I could handle this mission, just like you did. If I’m not objective in this, they’ll think that that was a mistake.”

“So why aren’t you objective?” Poe asks, feeling a little breathless under the force of his gaze.

“Because I care about you,” Finn says softly, eyes dropping to Poe’s collar, “because ordering you into danger isn’t something I can do lightly.”

Something about his voice, the way he says it, lodges itself neatly into Poe’s chest and sticks there under his ribs. “See,” he starts, shifting a little closer, “I think that makes it a better report. If you’re dealing with people you care about and manage to send them into danger anyway, that shows more than objectivity that you can handle yourself.”

“Even if it was a mistake?” Finn’s voice sticks in his throat, low and rough.

“Especially then,” Poe tells him firmly. “You’re more than objective. It’s the hardest thing in the universe to send people into danger under your orders. If you make it clear how hard it was, and that you did it anyway—yeah, it was a mistake, but not an emotional one. A tactical one. Those happen.”

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, “yeah, it was a tactical decision. We couldn’t, we didn’t know that the First Order would be ready for us. We thought we had surprise on our side.” His fingers reach out for Poe, just brushing his hip. His face crumples. “I’m so sorry.”

Poe drops his hand over Finn’s and squeezes, his heart dropping at that miserable crease between Finn’s brows. “You didn’t know they’d be ready, Finn. You can’t take responsibility. Believe me, I know.”

Finn leans closer to him, like he’s seeking comfort in Poe. Maybe he is. Poe’s heart thunders in his ears. “I know,” he murmurs, “I know that, but I can’t help thinking it’s my fault that you, you forgot. Like it’s my punishment for messing this up.”

“Pretty sure it’s the fault of the pilot who shot me,” Poe squeezes his hand again, making sure Finn knows he’s right there. It seems important somehow. “Unless that was you. And if it was you, we’ve got bigger problems.”

Finn laughs, short and soft, “I was on the command ship. No shooting involved.”

“Then it’s not your fault. You didn’t knock the memories outta my head.”

“Yeah,” Finn nods, and sits up in the chair, visibly trying to compose himself. His eyes are red. He takes a deep breath, staring at the desk. “I know that. I do. I just,” his breath hitches.

Poe had the same reaction the first time he’d lost someone under his orders, and it hasn’t gotten easier since. He wonders if Future-Poe has gotten over it by now, or if Muran and L’ulo and all the others still swarm up onto the edges of his bed and sit there when he can’t sleep. “I know,” he murmurs, and tugs at Finn’s hand. “C’mere.”

Finn goes with him easily, shifting up out of the chair. He’s oddly pliant under Poe’s direction, when usually he seems strong and stable. His face creases in confusion, but he doesn’t say a word. Poe wraps both arms around him, spreading his palms wide over Finn’s back. The skin under his shirt, over the scar Poe had seen in the water, is rough and strangely textured. He slides his hands up and presses Finn’s head until it’s tucked into the crook of Poe’s shoulder. “It’s hard.”

Finn’s breath hitches and suddenly his arms are tight around Poe, holding him close. His breath comes too fast, but after a moment it calms down and his grip loosens slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers into Poe’s shirt. Silently, Poe shakes his head and tugs him a little closer. He fits into Poe’s arms perfectly, his hands braced on the small of Poe’s back where they’d been before.

Finn likes to rest the space between Poe’s shoulders and his neck, stays there some nights when everything is too much.

Poe has no idea how he knows that, but he knows it as surely as he knows the shape of Finn’s spine under his palms, the slow trail of vertebrae reinforced with metal in a few places.

They stay locked together for a long while, until Finn lets out a slow breath and pulls back. He looks over Poe’s face with a watery smile. Lips parting, he looks like he wants to say something, but he only shakes his head slowly.

Poe smiles back. The strange feeling of familiarity lingers, settling over him like a blanket. “What’d they think of your theory?”

“Oh,” it takes Finn a moment to come back to himself. His eyes darken. “I didn’t, someone else suggested it.”

Poe knows that look. “And it didn’t go well.”

Shaking his head, Finn’s hand drops into Poe’s again. “No. They, they suggested that it might’ve been me. Who informed the First Order.”

“Was it?”

Finn stares at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Emotions flash there, anger, pain, and then his face shutters. His jaw snaps shut and he seems to stand taller, looking Poe straight in the eyes. “No.”

“Okay,” Poe says, slowly, wondering, “figured. If you did, you wouldn’t just run around telling people that. Any ideas who did?”

“No,” Finn says again. He stares at Poe for a second until his shoulders drop slightly. “I have no idea. Unless it’s the person who accused me, Neelin. You hate her, now.”

“Neelin’s the worst,” Poe wrinkles his nose, thinking of her nasal voice. “Neelin thinks you’re a First Order operative? Neelin thinks a Jedi like Rey’s gonna be so close to someone who’s a First Order operative? Come on.”

Finn takes a moment to respond, his hand slipping out of Poe’s. “I guess. I think she just wants someone to blame.”

“Sounds about right,” Poe snorts. “What’s Leia think?”

“I didn’t talk to her afterwards. She didn’t let Neelin go on for too long. Said she needed proof. I’m,” Finn sucks in a breath and says, “it’ll be fine. I should finish this.”

“Well, no one’s gonna get any proof,” Poe says, wondering at the tightness in his voice. “So it’ll be fine. Right? Just gotta figure out who leaked on us.”

“Or that it was no one,” Finn breathes, sitting back down at the desk, “I really hope it was no one. Just bad luck.”

“Bad luck does plague us,” Poe snorts. “Lemme read that when you’re done? A few mission details won’t kill me.”

“You sure?” Finn mutters, but he passes Poe the data pad with a little smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadness and flirting: the emotional heart and soul of this fic
> 
> Talk to us about those Vanity Fair covers, y'all.


	6. Chapter 6

“Finn,” Poe’s voice tugs him out of his notes like it always does. He sounds worried, and when Finn looks up at him, he can see the lines of tension around Poe’s mouth, set thin.

“Hey,” Finn says, setting down the datapad. “You alright?”

Poe’s eyes flick to the pad and back up to Finn’s face. “I tried to call my dad again.”

“Oh,” Finn sits up, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Same codes and everything?”

Something bitter flickers over Poe’s face at that, but he quickly smooths it away and moves to stand beside Finn at their shared desk, the one Poe almost never uses because he prefers to do his work in bed or in his cockpit, of all places.

“I got updated ones from Leia, even. Nothing. Couldn’t even leave a message for him because no one picked up, not even a droid.”

“That’s strange,” Finn frowns, turning to his datapad. He has to dig a bit to bring up the evacuation plans that he worked on. They’re sealed, but since he led the project, he still has access. “I spoke with him… five weeks ago. I’m not sure when you did, if it was after that.” He flicks through until he finds Kes’ code, then shifts through to the contact log.

There are five outgoing calls from today, all from Poe’s code (one of two codes that Finn has memorized. The other is Rey’s) and four from last week when Poe had tried to call him the first time.

“No. That was the last one. I, I can try but I don’t think…”

Poe swallows. “If he’s not answering me, there’s a reason. Do we, is. The place they’re staying, it’s safe?”

“As safe as it can be. I did the best I could. It should be the safest thing, far from here, far from the First Order,” Finn taps on the screen and tries to call Kes.

The cheerful beeps echo in the heavy silence of the room.

It beeps at them for a full minute and then drops away into nothing. On the screen, a small box pops up reading out error codes for an inactive number and a few other distance and reception protocol errors.

Beside him, Poe slumps down, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I’m sorry,” Finn says gently. He shifts, wanting to reach out and touch Poe, but he can’t. Not since he nearly kissed Poe yesterday. It felt like breaking his trust to even think about it.

Instead, he folds his hands together, elbows on his thighs, staring at a point on the floor between them.

Sighing, Poe turns in the creaky chair to face Finn. Their feet bump together and Poe leaves them where they are. “It’s not your fault. It’s his damn stubborn fault for not picking up, or,” he breaks off with a rough sound. “He’s doing something stupid. I know he is. He can’t leave well enough alone. He loves that place like he loved my mom, and me.” Thin laughter fills the space between them. “Would really help to talk to him right now.”

“Keep trying,” Finn says. His body feels stiff, stuck how it is with Poe’s foot touching his. He’s too focused on the contact. “He’ll pick up eventually. Or the situation might be worse. I, we can try some of the other refugees. You probably know some of them.”

Poe lifts his head. Shadows lurk under his eyes, the kind he gets when he’s been away on a mission for three days straight, running on adrenaline and caf alone. His hair is wild and helmet-tousled like he’s been in the air. “The others—let’s try some of the others. You know ‘em?”

“Yeah, I know most of them.” Finn is grateful for a reason to move, shifting to take the datapad, resting it on his thigh. “Naiad Calhuu would be a good place to start. She worked with me, y’know.”

Poe’s head jerks up, his eyes wide. “Naiad’s still alive? Shit.”

“Yeah,” Finn smiles and hands him the data pad on the page about the mission.

“Dad convinced her to come to Yavin 4 with him and my mom after they got their discharges,” Poe mumbles, scanning over the text. Finn’s heard it all from him before, on the initial briefing before the mission even started, and before that when they’d visited together. Poe had thrown his arms around Naiad with an excited whoop before introducing her to Finn. She’s tiny and terrifying and could probably still take out anyone who crosses her, even approaching 70. Naiad had been his ground coordinator along with Kes during the evacuation of Yavin 4. “I used to try and steal pears from her garden whenever we visited.” His nose scrunches up as he reads. “This is a solid plan.”

“It worked well. Until now,” Finn mutters, watching Poe as he reads. He’s emotive even when he’s silent, expression moving and shifting as he takes in everything on the page. “We should be able to contact her. If not, we can try some of the others.”

Poe looks up at him again, dark-eyed and tired. “Let’s give it a shot.”

Nodding, Finn holds out his hand for the data pad. “No promises,” Finn says, wishing he could give Poe something more.

“I know, buddy,” Poe says quietly. He watches Finn for a moment longer, then offers him a tiny smile and scoots the chair closer. “If they don’t pick up, I’ll just steal the old shuttle and fly there myself.”

“Uh huh. You’re grounded for a reason,” Finn mutters, pulling up Naiad’s contact page. Taking a deep breath, he sends the comm.

The pleasant beeping burbles up from the data pad again. Poe’s breath catches audibly in his throat, waiting. For a minute they’re completely silent.

Then the same harsh sound and error message blink to life.

Poe’s breath explodes out him. “Come _on_.”

“Shit,” Finn sighs, pushing his head into his hand.

He pulls up another one of the community leaders, Vansic Raan. The same error. Gul Reed. Error. Abira Varn. Error.

After he’s tried the fifth one, Finn tosses the data pad at his bed. It bounces and lands face-down. “There has to be something wrong. Maybe there’s interference. They can’t all be. Somewhere else.”

“This hasn’t ever been a problem before, I take it,” Poe murmurs, brow creased in thought. “I mean, sometimes Yavin 4’s storms would knock out comms for a while. What’s the planet like?”

“There aren’t as many storms. There shouldn’t be. It’s a forest planet, mostly. Inhabited, but sparsely, and in the Outer Rim.” Without prompting, BB-8 undocks itself from its charging pad and rolls over to Poe, beeping solemnly as it pulls up a holo of the planet.

A dark carpet of trees drapes over tiny prickling mountain ranges, blue at the edges. It turns slowly in front of them, showing the sweep of massive continents butting up against an ocean.

Poe’s hand ghosts through the holo. The edges fizz around his fingertips. “No storms, huh? Dad’s gotta be bored out of his mind.”

“There are no storms, but there are plenty of aggressive wildlife,” Finn’s lips quirk, “they have blasters and safe shelter, don’t worry.”

“But no reason for communications to be down,” Poe fills in with a sigh. He slides a hand over BB’s dome. “Great. I knew I had a bad feeling.”

BB chirps, rolling forward so it’s next to him, dome leaning toward Poe. Smiling softly, Finn watches them, hands clasped in front of himself. “Let’s try again later. It may just be a bad time.”

Poe’s soft laughter fills the air. “I appreciate the optimism, buddy, thanks.” He drops into a crouch beside BB-8, dropping his head into the droid’s dome for a moment before glancing up at Finn. “What were you working on before I hijacked your pad?”

“Mission report,” Finn wrinkles his nose. “I needed that break.”

Grinning, Poe shoves himself back to his feet. “You, uh—you have time to take a longer one?”

Finn looks Poe over, from his mussed curly hair to the shadow of stubble on his chin, the shiny bit at the corner of his mouth from biting his own lip. There’s something warm and hopeful in his eyes.

Slowly, Finn smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I can.”

* * *

 

Finn lays back with a sigh, letting his eyes fall shut. The rock under his back is sun-warmed and smooth. He and Poe used to come up here, when they first moved to the base just to get away from everything. It’s peaceful on top of the base, even with all of the activity below them. Only one ladder leads up here. No tactical reason to be here, so long as the base remains hidden. The gentle breeze brushes over them, skimming over the cliffs that drop away to the left.

“This is so much better than writing my report,” he murmurs, a smile quirking on his face.

Poe sits beside him with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring out over the waving tops of bright trees. “I’m here to rescue you from drudgery. Only way I can repay you.”

“Hey,” Finn reaches out blindly for him, his fingers brushing Poe’s hip. It sends a shock through his arm. “You don’t have to repay me for anything.”

“Protecting me from waterfalls,” Poe says, twitching toward him, “hanging out with me when I’m stuck on the ground and you have work to do. Dealing with—” he cuts himself off with a rough laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

“Poe,” Finn says weakly, pushing himself up. Poe is always so confident, so assured, and he’s fading. Every day without his memories pushes it further. “Poe, I want to do those things.”

“I know,” Poe looks sideways at him. “I know, buddy, because you’re awesome. It was—mostly a joke. I feel pretty useless right now, is all, and I know that can’t have changed. I hate just… sitting around. Waiting for something to change. For something to come back.”

Finn watches him for a moment, then he says quietly, “I get that. When I was healing, I couldn’t do much but just sit there. I found anything I could to do, from doing inventory in medical to sitting in on tactical meetings. And I couldn’t walk, then I couldn’t walk far. It got better, after a while.”

“How long was a while?” Poe asks quietly.

“A long time. Months before I could walk at all,” Finn grimaces, staring out at the trees that surround the base. “I don’t think it’ll take as long for you. But it has to be at least as frustrating.”

Beside him, Poe laughs and shifts a little closer still until Finn can feel the warmth radiating off him. “Did whatever you could. Good. ‘S a good way to deal with it.”

“It helped. You helped,” Finn’s fingers trail light over his back, “you were the only person I knew here. You stayed by my side and visited me every day. You helped me take my first steps. If anything, I owe you.”

“Huh,” Poe’s head tips back, up toward the turquoise sky. “So we’re even.” He leans just a little into Finn’s touch, the most they’ve touched since getting back from their hike. “You know, I haven’t even slept. Since we got back.”

“I wondered,” Finn glances at him. The dying sun frames his face, pouring over his hair. Finn wants to kiss him, to smooth his expression. “Do you want to be alone? I could go stay with Rey for tonight.”

“No,” Poe straightens, turning to face him with wide eyes. “I—no. I don’t. Want to be alone.”

“Okay,” Finn’s hand slips down Poe’s back, settling on his hip, “okay, I’ll be there. Why can’t you sleep?” As the sun dips lower in the sky Poe slumps against him, dropping his own arm around Finn’s shoulders. The fading day is on its last legs. In the short-day period on Kali they can only count on a few hours of solid sunlight, edged on either side by lingering dawns and twilight.

“No idea,” Poe says with exaggerated sadness. “Really. Tried to go to sleep, couldn’t sit still. Went to the hangar instead.”

“Didn’t help, huh?” Finn asks, letting his head lean on Poe’s. It feels too normal. Too much like it’s a month ago when they came up here and talked about their future together under the sinking sun.

“I’m gonna go visit the hangar later.” Poe says on a sigh. “Maybe see Rey. She’d know, right?”

“If anyone can find out, she can,” Finn agrees gently, his fingers trailing gently over Poe’s waist. After a moment, he asks, “did you make any progress on the new ship?”

Poe snorts. “Didn’t even get inside her. Her starboard wing is in tatters, poor thing. That’s what was keeping me up, just thinking about her. I’ve been neglecting her between running around in the jungle and all the medical stuff Kalonia has me doing.” He sucks in a slow breath, lets the words trail into a small silence. “You know a lot about my dad.”

“I do. And I know something about X-wings. I could try to help,” Finn turns his face, Poe’s hair tickling his nose.

“Are you using me as an excuse not to do your work?” Poe asks with laughter in his voice. “Because lemme tell you, I am one hundred percent behind that and will definitely enable you.”

“You tell me I work too much,” Finn laughs and he kisses the top of Poe’s head without thinking about it.

Then he blinks. Pulling back slightly, he watches Poe, nerves suddenly jumping.

Poe is still, his breath frozen in his throat for a moment.

“Well,” Poe says, quiet, “far as I can tell, you do.”

“I have a lot to do,” Finn murmurs, his hand dropping to the ground behind Poe, eyes sliding to the stone in front of them.

The lines they’ve drawn since Poe woke up are hazy at best. Finn has trouble remembering them, how he’s allowed to touch Poe, what he’s allowed to say. They seem to blur sometimes, like at the waterfall, with Poe pressed up against him and then gone in the next breath.

“You think dad is okay?” Poe asks after a minute. On the wind come the distant calls of the birds, low and echoing through the trees.

“He’s gotta be okay,” Finn promises, “we can call him again. The time difference is pretty big.”

“You know him,” Poe says again with more sureness in his voice. “Kes always picks up or calls back. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

“He’s gotta be okay,” Finn says again. He wants to touch Poe, to reassure him with his hands and his body. It usually works. Usually Poe prefers to feel instead of think. But he doesn’t reach back out, hand lying uselessly on the rock.

“’s what I keep telling myself,” Poe lets his head fall back again. “I just can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong. But everything’s so wrong, it might just be. My instincts are… fuzzy, lately.”

“Your instincts are usually good,” Finn reminds him, eyes slipping over the lines of Poe’s throat. The sun plays over his skin. It’s been two weeks since they kissed. Finn can feel those weeks down to his core.

“My instincts are usually what keep me from getting shot in the oxygen tank and hit with brain damage,” Poe mutters with probably more bitterness than he intended.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Finn tells him earnestly, shifting to face him. “You didn’t, you couldn’t have done anything. I know. I’m writing the damn report about it.”

Letting his chin drop, Poe turns again to look at him, one arm looped around one of his knees where before it had been around Finn. “It had to be a least a little bit my fault. But, either way: doesn’t do me any good now to worry about it. Gotta focus on getting my head back on straight.” He smiles, small, but real. “Rey’s been pretty adamant about helping.”

“Yeah? Are you letting go more?” Finn asks, keeping his voice soft. It took a long time for Poe to get there in the first place, for him to even let Rey’s power anywhere near his head. He’d barely admit to anyone that something was wrong in the first place until the night terrors started impacting his flying, and he was ordered into therapy to deal with it all.

Now they don’t have any idea how his brain is trying to handle it.

But Poe nods, biting at the corner of his lip. “Something like that. Like a wall’s coming down? I always knew the Force was a weird thing, but it’s a whole different game getting up close and personal with it.”

“You got good at it. Protecting your mind. It might be what’s stopping you now.”

Poe grins at him. “My own mind, my downfall? Damn. Figures.”

Finn tries to grin back, but it won’t stay in place. “You’ll get it back, Poe. All of it.”

“I can find my way outta anything,” Poe laughs. The sound echoes off the rocks “Point of pride.”

“You always do,” Finn’s itching to reach out and touch him again. He curls his fingers behind himself, but he can’t keep the longing off his face, the desire. He’s tired, from lack of sleep, from working on the report, from watching his eyes move around Poe. From not having Poe there to tell him it’s going to be okay.

Poe’s still watching him, his own face soft in the fading sunlight.

“Yeah,” he says, softer. “I do, huh?” Rock scrapes under his pants as he shifts closer to Finn, just close enough that his knee brushes Finn’s thigh.

“You’re still alive,” Finn jokes weakly, frozen where he is, eyes locked with Poe’s, “that’s a miracle, at this point.”

Poe’s eyes crinkle at the edges with his laughter. “Alright, alright, I get enough of that from BB.”

“BB’s right,” Finn quips and his lips finally curve up with ease. ”You have a terrible sense of self-preservation.”

“Well, we can’t all be perfect.” Poe nudges at him with his toes, poking Finn in the calf. “Wouldn’t be fair if I had everything going for me, would it?”

Finn nudges him back with a laugh. “No. No, then you might actually just take over the galaxy.”

“I wouldn’t take over,” Poe gasps, mock-offended as he draws himself up. “I would be elected. Because I’m so loved.”

“Kriff,” Finn pushes his shoulder, “I wouldn’t vote for you.”

Laughing, Poe shoves him back, putting his full body-weight behind it this time. “Yes you would. You’re obligated to vote for me.”

Finn lets himself fall back, hitting the stone with a huff. He grins up at the strange green light of sunset. “Would not. I’d lead the Resistance against you. All that power would go to your head.”

“You’d be even more unpopular than we are,” Poe snorts and flops down beside him, leaning his head into his hand. “I’m planning to pass all kinds of great laws.”

“What would you do first?” Finn’s head lolls to look at him. The sunset lights a ghostly halo around his curls.

“Droid rights laws,” Poe says immediately, grinning. “No more of that servant shit.”

“Should have guessed,” Finn’s smile eases into something soft, “BB-8 will have more rights than me by the time you’re done.”

“BB-8 deserves every right,” Poe says immediately, then shakes his head. “Droid rights aren’t gonna happen at the expense of human rights.” He drops down to face Finn, one arm cushioned under his head. “Anyway, after that I think it’d be a no-meetings-before-9-in-the-morning law. You know, the important stuff.”

“You’re leaving yourself open for my coup,” Finn waves a finger at him, “we start at 6.”

“Heathens,” Poe shudders. “Do I go for those? Without caf?”

“I’ve seen you do it once,” Finn starts, but then he snaps his mouth shut.

That morning is one he can’t really talk about with Poe. This Poe.

Because Poe woke him up, before a big meeting that started at 8, with his mouth around Finn’s cock. He said later, with a big grin on his face, that if he had to be up he may as well start the morning off right for both of them.

“And I bet you bribed me to do it,” Poe snorts, eying him. When Finn blanches and looks away from him, Poe’s grin widens. “You did! You did bribe me. I knew it. It’s the only way.”

“I, no! I didn’t. You did it by yourself,” he says, voice tight.

“You are the worst liar,” Poe’s laughter echoes out across the rocks. “Just admit it.”

“I swear I’m not lying,” Finn says louder than he wanted to. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, then peers at Poe.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to feel virtuous,” Poe tells him with that same lolling grin. “No judgment here.”

“You’re judging me right now,” Finn mutters.

“You’re judging yourself.”

“Early mornings are a hard habit to break,” Finn deflects, his eyes dropping to Poe’s grin. His breath catches.

“I’ve broken a few habits in my day,” Poe’s voice is softer now, pitched only for the two of them. “I can help you out with that.”

“You tried,” Finn says without really thinking. He shifts toward Poe, glancing back at his eyes. He swallows. “Poe.”

Poe’s eyes are dark, his pupils swallowing the surrounding brown. “I did, huh?”

“You tried,” Finn says again. Poe is so close and he’s looking at Finn like he always does, with that gentle, sweet expression. “You used the Poe Prison method. It wasn’t very effective.”

“I’m not familiar with that method,” Poe says, mouth curving in a slow smile. Somehow, he’s moved closer to Finn, close enough for Finn to touch, if he really wanted to. “Gonna have to explain.”

“You’re gonna make me?” Finn asks and he can feel his resolve crumbling. He’s weak to Poe. His Poe knows it. Now-Poe seems to be learning it. It didn’t take him long four years ago either.

Now-Poe grins and edges closer in the dying light, his eyes locked on Finn. “Do my best, anyway. Sounds like I need to work on my technique.”

“Well, it was something like,” Finn trails off and then, without thinking, he suddenly he surges forward. His hands capture Poe’s wrists and pin him down against the rock with Finn’s knees bracketing his thighs. He can’t breathe or look away from Poe.

Poe stares right back up with those same wide, dark eyes. Somehow, he doesn’t look surprised. He doesn’t fight back either, pliant under Finn’s grip.

In fact, his mouth curves in a familiar smug little smile, the kind he gets when he’s done something incredibly stupid and somehow it all turns out fine anyway. It happens a lot.

“Alright,” he says, low and slow and sweet, like the syrup he still likes to drench his breakfast in, “so this isn’t effective?”

“It is,” Finn admits. His body is hot and he can’t seem to get enough air. “But only for, for one day.” He’s close enough to feel Poe’s breath fanning damply over his lips.

“Huh,” Poe says, apparently considering this. Slowly he pushes himself up onto his elbows, bracing himself on the uneven rock. He watches Finn for a moment, eyes flickering over his face. In the space of the next breath, he leans up and kisses Finn, short and sweet.

Finn freezes. His eyes blow wide and he stares at Poe, his face serene, eyes half shut. His brain can’t keep up, can’t comprehend that Poe, this Poe, the Poe who still has no idea who he is, is kissing him.

Then it’s over.

Poe drops back to the rock and stays there for a moment, looking pleased with himself with the last gold-green fingers of the sunset in his hair.

Then reality creeps coldly back, and his eyes go wide. “Finn—”

Finn cuts him off with a hard kiss, dropping down to crush his lips against Poe’s. Everything he’s wanted to say for weeks is funneled into the kiss, his body speaking where his words failed.

For a second Poe is frozen, and then all at once he’s a flurry of movement: arms braced on Finn’s, fingers digging into his biceps like Poe isn’t sure whether to push him away or keep him there, a tilt of his head so there is the slick slide of lips on Finn’s. Finn’s heart feels full, his chest tight to the point of pain. Poe’s lips are soft and press against his and Finn’s fingers push into his hair, mussed from the wind.

It’s like no time has passed at all except that when they pull apart, breath coming fast and wet between them, Poe’s eyes are hazy and unfocused and he immediately bites at his own lip, staring up at Finn. Their foreheads bump together. Poe sucks in a breath and smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well that’s a hell of a way to avoid doing reports.”

“It’s one of my favorites,” Finn replies without thinking, then he frowns and shifts up. He sits back on his heels and runs a hand over his own face. “That was too much. That was too much, right? I shouldn’t. You don’t.”

“Remember anything about my life right now?” Poe asks dryly. He’s draped against the rock, looking relaxed, but his eyes flick over Finn’s face without landing anywhere and he’s still chewing on his lip. He only does that when he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” Finn mutters, not quite looking at Poe’s face, eyes dropping to his chest. “But it’s okay. If you want to kiss me. We do that. That’s part of our relationship. But you don’t have to. I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

Poe shoves himself up fast enough he almost headbutts Finn. “Finn, buddy, I’ve been thinking about that for two straight days, I thought—”

Finn catches him, hands gripping his arms and a smile chases across his face. “Yeah? Well, I mean. Hard not to, at that waterfall.”

“I was thinking, kriff, am I gonna ruin this friendship so hard—” Poe laughs incredulously, curling his own hands around Finn’s elbows. “Okay, so really. That’s okay? Are we, you wanna give me details? This feels rule-breakingly important.”

“Uh, I,” Finn frowns, settling down so he’s sitting on Poe’s thighs, “I’m afraid that, that telling you stuff might confuse what’s already there.” Poe’s expression drops. Finn can’t stand the hopeless look on his face, so he offers, “but maybe if I don’t give details?”

“But,” Poe frowns, “I want them.”

“Poe,” Finn laughs, shaking his head at this beautiful, petulant man. “Imagine if you’re me for a second. If you learn something about us and your mind fills in the blanks and you believe that you remember, but it’s not the same memories. It’s not one that happened, that I share. How would you feel?”

With a heavy sigh, Poe lets himself drop back down to the rock. “I know, buddy, believe me. But there are all these stories I was part of—shit, Snap got married! And I was there, I think. And I have no kriffing idea what it was like or if this is how you were with me before, or any of it. You gotta give me something.”

“Okay,” Finn breathes and he slowly gets off of Poe, settling cross-legged next to him. “You and me are, we got together a while ago. We were pretty much best friends before that. At least, you were my best friend,” Finn takes a calming breath, feeling his chest grow tighter with every word. “We live together. I, uh, I moved our beds apart so that it wouldn’t be weird for you, to figure out you’re sleeping with someone you don’t remember.”

Poe nods, slowly pulling himself up so he’s sitting on the rock with his legs stretched out in front of him. He watches Finn with the laser focus he only gets when’s working on his X-wing or on a mission. Kalonia’s words were very clear: if he fills in too many gaps, it could kill the chances of the real ones coming back. Like an unset bone healing wrong, she’d said, with a pointed look at Finn. She’d had to rebreak his arm once, to fix what had already started to heal lopsided and wrong. It hurt more than the original injury.

“Um,” Finn rubs his hands on his thighs, unable to look away from Poe. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything else,” Poe says after a moment, though he’s watching Finn with that same intensity. Usually, when he watches Finn like that, it means Finn’s about to stop thinking for several hours.

Now, though.

Now Poe shoves a hand into his hair, letting his head drop back. It’s dark enough the lights from the base below have come on. The sky is half-hidden by the gas giant, so no stars wink at them yet. Finn knows Poe misses them.

“Alright,” he says, finally. A soft breeze trickles between them. “I can live with that until I get my head back on right.”

“It explains why I’m always hanging around you,” Finn tries to joke, managing a small smile. There’s so much more he wants to tell Poe: that he’s the best thing in Finn’s life, that they saved each other, that seeing Poe every day is Finn’s favorite thing, that falling asleep without him gets harder with each mission, that seeing Poe look at him like he doesn’t know him hurts deep, deep in his gut, that they were going to get married and adopt seven children after the war is over. Those dreams might not happen anymore. Might never have happened. Poe might’ve died that day, Finn might’ve gone on another mission, they might break up, the First Order might win.

But at least Poe wanted it. Poe wanted that future and he wanted it with Finn. He wanted every moment with Finn, every second they could be together.

This Poe wants to kiss him. At least that’s something.

Taking a shaky breath, Finn reaches over to squeeze Poe’s arm. “C’mon. Let’s get dinner before they clear it up.”

“Kriff, is it that late?” Poe offers him a bright smile. It’s a little forced, one that Finn hasn’t seen in a while. He’s usually the one person on base who doesn’t cause smiles like that.

“Yeah,” Finn pushes himself up and holds a hand out for Poe. “It’s late. And I do have to finish that report. Eventually.”

After a moment of hesitation, Poe reaches out and lets Finn help him to his feet. He shivers a little in the wind, but keeps hold of Finn’s hand for a few seconds longer than necessary. “Right. That. My new ship needs a little more work. I’m gonna crash, sooner or later.” A shadow passes over his face and then he grins. “Well. Again.”

“Poe,” Finn snaps, and he’s about to reprimand him, but this Poe doesn’t know how much that bother Finn. He hasn’t promised Finn he wouldn’t joke like that (although he still does, when Finn isn’t around. Jess told him that, once).

Instead, he sighs and drags his arms closer to himself, crossing his arms over his chest, as they head back toward the small hatch that leads into the base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	7. Chapter 7

Rey has a habit of appearing silently at Finn’s shoulder with little to no warning, which would scare the crap out of him if, by now, he didn’t have a sense of when she was about to tap him on the arm.

“Hi Rey,” he says, just barely glancing back at her. He’s reviewing his work, trying to find the holes from the mission. It’s becoming obsessive, since no one is giving him any more work. He should ask his Commander about that. “What’re you doing here?”

“Checking on you,” Rey says. Her fingers curl around his arm, just a soft touch, but something warm tingles through Finn.

Sighing softly, Finn turns around. “How do you always know?”

Rey raises her brows at him. They both know the answer to that: she has a stronger sense for him than for almost anyone else in the Resistance. “Take a break. How long have you been working?”

“Since the morning,” he murmurs, running a hand over his face, “I, I can’t be around Poe right now.”

Squeezing his arm, Rey tugs at him. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Okay,” Finn says, turning off his console. His body feels heavy. He didn’t sleep well, not with Poe sleeping across the room from him, so close and yet he could be miles away. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Rey shrugs and steps back so he has space to stand. “I ran into Deming. He’s everywhere lately.”

Finn makes a noise, frowning at her and taking her hand gently in his, “did he do anything?”

Wrinkling her nose, Rey squeezes his hand. They fall into step easily. Rey’s never had a problem keeping up with him, and Finn adjusts his stride to her automatically by now. “Just a lot of talking. He’s asking people about you. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to find. Everyone likes you.”

“I’m not so sure, anymore,” Finn says quietly, “people blame me for Poe’s injury. I’ve heard the rumors.”

“The rumors are stupid.” They’re heading for the left wing of the base, the winding tunnels where most of the personnel sleep and where a small tunnel leads away into the highlands: Rey’s favorite path to take, because it’s full of interesting plant life. “Why would you have? Deming knows that, he’s just trying to stir up trouble. He blew up at Jess earlier.”

“Did he,” Finn murmurs, staring hard at the ground just in front of their feet. “They, I don’t know. I, I would never hurt anyone in the Resistance, let alone Poe. But he’s saying it, and it’s not just him. Neelin believes it too. She’s gunning for me.”

“Who’s listening to Neelin?” Rey shakes her head. “Everyone who matters knows you’d never hurt Poe.”

“Except for Poe,” Finn reminds her with a weak smile. The memory of kissing Poe, of feeling Poe against him again, weighs on him. He wants to lie down, right here in the middle of the hall, and go to sleep. “I kissed Poe yesterday,” he admits on a breath.

Rey sucks in a small breath of her own. “That explains a lot,” she murmurs, more to herself, and cocks her head to listen if he wants to continue.

“Does it?” Finn glances at her, then bites his lip, “it just happened. It was like it used to be. We were on top of base, watching the sunset, and he just… I love him. I love him so much. Being near him, when he still doesn’t know, has no idea, it hurts. And I know I shouldn’t’ve done it. I should be stronger than that.”

“Says who?” Rey asks. Her fingers tighten in his. “You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.”

“He doesn’t know that,” Finn mumbles, “he barely knows who I am. I have this whole history with him, and he has, what, a week?”

Rey tugs on his hand, frowning. “How did he react?”

“To the kiss? He liked it. He was, was into it,” Finn leans closer to her, “and that’s almost worse.”

Rey tilts her head and lets go of his hand only to let them out of the base into the clouded afternoon. “Why is it worse?”

“Because it gives me hope,” Finn shuffles out of the base, turning back to her.

“That’s not bad,” Rey insists with that familiar stubborn tilt to her jaw, the light in her eyes that means she knows she’s right. “You should have hope. Poe’s going to remember you. You’re connected. I can feel it.”

“Yeah,” sighing Finn steps up next to her, “yeah, he will. I need to remember that. But I, I can’t help but feel like I’m taking advantage of him.”

Snorting, Rey leads him around the practice fields up toward the treeline, which is hardly a line: the jungle creeps onto the base and the base into the jungle. “Does Poe ever let anyone take advantage of him?”

“…no,” Finn admits softly, “no, he never does. You’re right. I’ve been so in my head, it’s hard to know what’s just my thoughts and what’s real.”

Rey grins at him. “That’s why I came to get you. Get you out of your head.” Her steps are flowing and confident as she leads him up to their little path, a tiny wending way between two towering trees. “No matter what happens,” she says softly, in a thoughtful voice, “you’re connected to Poe and he’s connected to you. So even if he doesn’t remember you, you’re tied together in the Force. That has to mean something.”

“It does,” Finn agrees and her conviction stirs something in him, waking up that little piece of hope that’s been curled up for weeks. “Thanks, Rey.”

“And you have me,” Rey continues. The breeze stirs up her hair, loosely contained in a larger bun than she usually wears. “And Jess, and Snap and all of them. They’re all here with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Finn says quietly, “it’s hard to remember. I’m so used to Poe, to Poe always being there for me. You are too, of course you are, but Poe is… he’s different.”

“Oh, really?” Rey asks with a hint of laughter in her voice. “I didn’t notice.”

“Shut up,” Finn rolls his eyes and hops a step to be next to her. “Um, can I have a hug?”

With a soft smile, Rey turns without a word and wraps her arms around Finn, her palms sliding up along his spine. They settle at the small of his back, warm and steady. Finn rests against her, arms tight around her waist, face pressed into her shoulder. He sucks in a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I love you too, y’know,” Finn mumbles.

Rey hums softly under her breath and pulls him closer. She’s smaller but after all her training, after her life, there’s a wiry strength to her that no one can miss, and something more besides.

“I know,” she says eventually, under the soft sound of the wind rustling in the leaves and the high calls of hidden birds. The sunlight is already getting warmer with the late afternoon.

“Um, we should go spar or something. Need to do something,” he breathes against her, “and stop kissing my fiance while he doesn’t remember me.”

“At least talk to him about it,” Rey says with a smile in her voice. “It could jog his memory. Let’s go up to the clearing.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I, I will. Um, tell me about your day,” he slowly lets go of her and takes her hand again, blinking wetness out of his eyes.

“Meditated,” Rey says with a smile, “went to help Poe with his X-wing. We’re modding it. It’s gonna be a good ship. And I’m trying to upgrade the Falcon again.”

“Oh yeah? Are there any original parts left?” Finn nudges against her with a small smile.

Rey grins. “The chairs in the cockpit haven’t changed.”

“Then they’re still terrible,” Finn laughs and leans closer, “that’s the part you should’ve replaced.” Then after a second, he adds, “kriff, I’ve gone soft.”

“So soft!” Rey laughs. “I have, too. I get hungry every four hours now.”

“I always had consistent food, but now I can eat whenever,” Finn confides in her, “can you keep a secret?”

Rey tilts her head. “Depends on the secret.”

Finn reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ration bar, one of the good ones that’s sweet and filling, “I keep a couple of these on me at all times.”

Rey stares at them for a second, then breaks into a wide smile. “You went so soft.”

“You want one?” Finn offers it to her with a smile.

Rey snatches it from his hand, laughing, and starts unwrapping it as they walk again. “Carrying them is a good idea. Then you’re never without food.”

“Exactly,” Finn pulls the second one out of his pocket, “except now we’re eating both of them. Better not be hungry before we come back in.”

“There’s fruit,” Rey points out, gesturing above them. “We’ll be fine. Anyway, I won’t need food, because I’m going to win. You’ll need some to nurse your pride back to health.”

“Your training is making you cocky,” Finn teases and elbows her in the side.

* * *

“So,” Rey says as she pushes her hair back from her face to tie it up again. Leaves are caught here and there in the mass of it from where she and Finn had ended up on the ground, laughing and semi-wrestling without really meaning it, “fiancé?”

“Uh,” Finn blinks at her, his face feeling hot and that empty pit dropping in his stomach again. It was nice, sparring and wrestling and using his body instead of thinking about Poe. “Yeah. We. Before,” he takes a breath and forces the words out, “before Poe was injured, we talked about getting married. Well, we decided to get married. Later on this year, if things calm down and we could get Kes and everybody in the same place.”

Rey’s face softens with sympathy. Not pity: she pities very few people, and hates it when people pity her for the stories of her childhood. It’s one of the many reasons they’re so close. “You finally talked about it.”

“Yeah,” he nods and brushing his fingers through the grass. It’s near-dark, the night animals coming out and starting to sing. “We did. It, it went so much better than I thought it would. He brought it up, as a joke, I’m betting if I said I didn’t want to. But I do. Did. And then he got hurt.”

“Does anyone else know?” Rey settles down on the grass beside him as she ties off her hair. Something snuffles in the bushes nearby, rustling at massive leaves. This close to the base, they’ve managed to ward off most of the jungle’s predators, though patrols go out every now and again to make sure they’re safe. Either way, Finn and Rey could take whatever came at them. After all they’ve faced, a few hungry creatures are less of a threat.

Finn shakes his head. “I didn’t tell anyone. Poe wanted to tell Kes, but communication has been difficult with him for a while now. I, I really need to figure out what’s going on, haven’t heard from him in weeks,” he frowns and plucks a few strands of grass. “We were gonna tell everybody soon. Maybe have a party.”

Rey snorts. “Poe’s idea, right? I haven’t felt anything bad from Kes, but,” she lets her eyes flutter shut, a slight frown creasing her brow as she concentrates. Dim shadows play over her as the wind rustles through the canopy above. Eventually, Rey makes a frustrated noise and opens her eyes again. “I can’t tell anything about him. It’s too murky.”

“I’m gonna see what I can do. Poe really wants to talk to him. It’d be good for him, I think,” Finn sighs and drops back in the grass, “but all that’s on hold now. I was gonna ask if you’d be my best-person. If it does happen now.”

“It’ll happen,” Rey says with a level of conviction in her voice that Finn hasn’t felt all week. “I’ll work out the communications with Kes. You have enough to worry about.” She fixes Finn with a flat gaze that he’s always found hard to look away from. “Stop trying to do it all yourself.”

“I—” Finn looks at her, then falls back, “okay. Thanks. Thank you. I’m letting this get to my head. Um,” he pushes himself up on his elbows, “maybe I do spend too much time with Poe. Maybe this is good for us. For me.”

“Probably.” Rey tilts her head. The wind stirs at her hair, catching at a few loose strands and sending them tumbling across her forehead. “You’re worrying about Poe so much that you forgot to worry about yourself.”

“I’m so worried about him,” Finn says quietly, more to himself than to her. He stares up at the darkening sky, a deep green canopy above them. “I’m worried that I’ll never get him back. That I’ll live near him, but never have him.” Nodding, Rey shifts closer until their knees bump together. She watches him closely in that way she has: studying, watching the play of emotion and the twitch of muscle that will tell her, maybe, what someone is thinking.

Poe has a similar habit. They’re both great at picking up on subtle cues of body language, especially concerning Finn. Rey’s close attunement to the Force only magnifies the ability in her, and Poe lives his life so quickly that those split-second reactions sometimes mean the difference between life and death. More than once they’ve joined forces to get him to stop working without Finn ever letting on, he thought, that he was getting exhausted.

Finn nudges her knees gently, glad for the contact. He’s used to spending his nights pressed up against Poe, used to Poe’s hugs and kisses and light touches. He’s used to being without them, too, when one of them is on a mission, but this feels different, somehow. He feels the lack of physical touch like a weight, heavy and dragging.

“I’ll be your best person,” Rey says softly after a while. “You should ask Jess, too. She loves organizing things.”

“Yeah, she was gonna be one of Poe’s. Her and Snap and Karé and Kes,” Finn says the names and closes his eyes, “he should ask them. When he remembers.”

Rey scoots closer so her leg is pressed to his, warm and solid. “They’re your friends, too. When do you have to finish your report on everything?”

“Soon. It should already be done,” Finn mumbles and turns on his side, curling around to rest his head on her thigh, “I’ll try to finish it tomorrow.”

Rey’s hand lands gently on his shoulder and stays there. “After you’re finished, we should go to the big lake again.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling against her, “I’d love that.”

* * *

“I dunno, BB,” Poe mumbles, leaning back against the body of the X-wing. “This thing’s kind of a hunk of junk, isn’t it? Think she’s salvageable?”

“The X-Wing is a T-65C model. It’s engine is from a T85-A model. BB-8 believes that Friend-Poe can fix it. Friend-Poe fixed BB-8 when BB-8 was rusty like the T-65C,” BB-8 informs him, rolling back and then forward again, “Friend-Poe should not give up.”

Smiling down at the droid, Poe drops to his knees. “You think? Good to know someone has faith in me.”

“Friend-Poe has gotten better at mechanics in four years, but Friend-Poe was always proficient,” BB-8 tells him and rolls forward against him.

“Lot of good that does me now,” Poe grimaces. BB-8 is warm, always is, and Poe appreciates the solidity of the droid. Even when everything is falling apart and Poe’s confused and unsure of where he stands, BB-8 is there. “Well, I’m not getting anywhere else today.” It’s been hours and he’s only just managed to tear out all the damaged wiring. Poe is usually happy to absorb himself in a task like this for hours but X-wing techs he doesn’t know keep walking past, asking him questions, and there are a few faces who should be there who he doesn’t see. Even out in the hangar there are too many unknowns.

“Friend-Poe can eat. Friend-Poe used energy reserves to fix the ship,” BB-8 says, unnecessarily, and leans its dome against his shoulder. It feels something like affection.

BB-8 starts to say something else when a familiar voice floats toward them, “there is some truth to what he’s been saying, but I don’t believe all of it. Major Finn has a history of deceit, and you shouldn’t forget it.”

Poe sucks in a soft breath and falls back against the landing gears, tugging BB-8 with him.

He knows that voice, but before Poe can pin it to a face or a name it floats away from him and he grimaces, pulling at the rusted metal beside him. If nothing else, maybe he can lube everything up today, make the poor thing stop shrieking every time Poe moves her.

He knows that voice.

Poe just can’t remember it. He frowns hard. “BB, who’s that?”

BB-8 turns its dome, making a soft whining noise, “Major Deming, Corporal Kaler, Sergeant Rimora, and Corporal Brin,” it recites.

Deming.

That soft voice with an accent from somewhere near the core worlds, talking about Finn like he’s the enemy in a way that makes Poe’s gut clench.

No good has ever come of base gossip. Poe hates it, has always hated it, would be surprised if that’s changed in the last four years. No matter the friction that comes with people of all different backgrounds living in one place together, they have a united cause.

Or, they’re supposed to.

Poe doesn’t feel good about any of this. He picks up a spanner and turns to look busy, listening carefully as Deming continues.

“I understand that,” Deming goes on, addressing some soft question from one of the others, “he is a valuable asset. Or he was. I believe that the Major may have outlived his usefulness to the Resistance.”

“Kriff that,” Poe mumbles to BB-8, who trills back a meaningless sound of annoyance.

“I assume your research has uncovered something,” another one of the voices says, and Poe doesn’t recognize this one either.

“Of course,” Deming says, and Poe can hear a scathing note in his voice, “I have a suspicion, one that I’m certain will become proof very soon.”

A few of the voices raise up at once, echoing in a wordless mass through the hangar. Poe can only catch “Interesting,” and “--to see what happens,” before the high whine of a tool somewhere pierces through the gaggle of voices.

By the time Poe shoves himself up, intending to break up their gossip party before more ridiculous things about Finn can come out, they’ve all scattered, and Deming is gone.

Poe’s been doing a passable job of not thinking too much about Finn today.

He’s been trying not to but it’s been hard when that kiss keeps flicking across Poe’s mind like it’s targeting him: the press of lips and sun-warmed rock on his back, and the flirty heat in Finn’s eyes when he’d shoved Poe down like they’d been doing this for years because apparently they have, and that seems like something Poe should kriffing remember but instead there is a vast starless blankness instead of familiarity and he hates it.

But he wouldn’t have been in a relationship with someone who was a traitor. Poe’s made some spectacularly misjudged decisions, but he knows himself and clearly, some part of him knows Finn.

And Deming is supposed to be helping Finn with his report, not starting shit in the hangar.

“At least one of those people was a pilot,” Poe says, glancing down at BB-8. “Right?”

“Corporal Kaler and Sergeant Rimora,” BB-8 tells him, rolling to the edge of the X-Wing to look at the group. “Friend-Finn is not deceitful. Friend-Finn is committed to the Resistance. Friend-Poe should not listen to Major Deming.”

Poe snorts. “Not a chance, buddy, c’mon. Why’s he stirring up shit, though? He’s supposed to be helping Finn. Doesn’t feel right.”

“BB-8 does not know,” BB-8 rolls back to him, “Friend-Finn should be aware that Major Deming does not like him.”

“Oh, hey Finn, remember how we’re dating and I don’t remember who you are? People are talking shit about you on base, too. Have a great day.”

“Friend-Poe can be more tactful than that,” BB-8 chides him, “Friend-Poe knows that Friend-Poe and Friend-Finn were intimate. Good.”

Poe can’t help a burst of laughter at the word. “Intimate, huh? Yeah. He, uh, he told me last night. Yesterday.”

“Finally,” BB-8 burbles a laugh.

Sighing, Poe leans on the electrical panel to close it up, making the poor X-wing protest in a rusty squeal of hinges. The poor girl. After lunch Poe will spend a couple hours oiling her up after he goes to interrogate Kalonia a little more.

“Seems like that should’ve sparked something, though,” he says, half to himself, half to BB-8. “It felt like it was going to. Like a word on the tip of my tongue but I got nothing.”

“Human amnesia does not always repair by physical actions. Doctor Kalonia recommended time and rest,” BB-8 recites from by his knee. Poe has to smile.

“Doesn’t feel like that, though,” he says. “C’mon, let’s go pester Kalonia. Maybe she’ll tell me something else this time.” That, and his head’s been aching fiercely for the last half hour or so. He’d had to leave his squadron this morning because of it, fuzzy with painkillers, with his throat tight from the tension they all clearly feel around him. Poe feels bad for avoiding them, knows they’re all worried about him, but that worry is too much to bear when there’s nothing he can do about any of it but wait.

“It is unlikely,” BB-8 chirps, but that doesn’t stop it from zooming off toward the doors, then back to Poe expectantly.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Poe laughs, and finally shoves himself up to start walking, ignoring the renewed pounding in his head until he can get it dealt with. Maybe a lower dose of painkillers would leave him less fuzzy.

At least BB-8 hasn’t changed a bit.

* * *

Poe is used to falling asleep in strange rooms with strange people: the bulk of his life has been spent in dorms or barracks or on distant trading outposts trying to get information. And technically this is his room. Poe’s spent a while cataloging all the evidence of himself that he can see scattered around the place: the technical drawings of ships he doesn’t remember making and tiny models he doesn’t remember getting. He’s been here, but he has none of the comfortable feelings associated with home that should be here.

It makes him nervous.

At first, he thinks it’s that feeling that wakes him up in the middle of the night, shooting up out of a dream of unfamiliar shapes and the wet leaves on Yavin 4 blooming into red.

Poe stares at the beams criss-crossing the ceiling, metal blending with dark, cold stone. Every bit of metal here is rusted red, thick with moisture from the caves.

A tiny sound echoes into the air from across the room. It sounds like pain, or fear, held back tight. Finn’s body is stiff on the bed, just feet away on the other side of the room. He’s on his back, face scrunched up. The blankets are tangled around him, gripped tight in clenched fists.

“Finn,” Poe mutters, already sitting up on one elbow. Finn twists a little toward him and even in the dark Poe can see the fear twisted into the line of his brow. “Finn—” he says again, trying to get his attention even as he stumbles out of the tangle of his own sheets and across the room. Tense and whimpering, Finn twists his hands a little tighter until his knuckles are pale. All Poe can think to do, still foggy with sleep, is slide his own hand behind Finn’s skull, cradling, trying to center him again as he leans close on his knees beside the bed. “Finn, buddy, hey, wake up—”

Finn sucks in a breath and he seems to relax under Poe’s touch. He turns into Poe’s hand, bringing their faces closer together. Something uncoils in Poe as Finn settles back into the sheets.

“Hey,” he says again, to check Finn is awake. That look on his face is too familiar, reminiscent of a thousand night terrors that have yanked Poe roughly from sleep. He lets the pads of his fingers slip softly up behind Finn’s ear, soothing over sweat-damp skin.

Slowly, Finn’s eyes open, hazy and scared, but when they land on Poe his expression eases. “Poe,” he breathes.

“Morning, sunshine,” Poe whispers, checking over his face. Finn relaxes under his fingers, muscles easing. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Uh, nightmare,” Finn stares at him, blinking a few times. His hand lets go of the blankets and skims over Poe’s shoulder. On impulse, feeling warm and soft with the edges of his dream still hovering around him, Poe leans closer until he’s braced on Finn’s sheets, pressed along his side.

“Figured,” he murmurs. “Me too. Woke me right up.”

“Sorry,” Finn shifts closer to him, leaning his forehead against Poe’s.

“Not yours,” Poe corrects quietly. Finn is a little warm, probably heated from whatever he was dreaming about. His thumb slips up behind Finn’s ear. “Mine. Don’t worry.”

“Oh,” fingers grip Poe’s shirt tightly and it feels like Finn wants to pull him closer, but he doesn’t, holding himself where he is. “Thank you. For waking me too.”

Somehow, Poe feels that lack like a physical thing. It feels like half his head is somewhere else, wrapped in cotton and aching a little: that hasn’t gone away all week. His thoughts slink syrup-slow through his head.

“Bad?” He asks, and nudges a little at Finn. Finn moves easily, edging toward the wall to make room for him.

“The same. You don’t, don’t know what that is,” Finn pulls back the blankets for him. Poe doesn’t even think about sliding in beside him, letting his hand slip down from Finn’s neck to his shoulder where the skin is roughened with scar tissue.

“No,” he agrees once he’s settled and close and can smell Finn’s soap: something piney, something more than the stuff they’re all issued, a different sort than the standard one Poe was used to. Something else to make him feel out of place.

Finn’s breath catches and his arms ease around Poe, holding him loosely against Finn’s chest. “It’s, I’m worried. About you. And Rey and Jess and everyone. I dream of, of you being hurt.”

Poe’s mouth twists, pressed into the edge of Finn’s shoulder. He noses a little closer, curling his fist into the soft shirt Finn is wearing, something maroon and loose that--

He blinks. This is one of his shirts, something he’d gotten from his dad that was too big for them both. It’s big even on Finn.

Smiling, he reaches up again and presses at the back of Finn’s neck. “Yeah. Those are hard ones. Hard to remember it isn’t real.”

“Hard when it happens. When it’s real,” Finn breathes, his eyes closing halfway, arm tightening around Poe’s back. There’s a twinge there, something that sparks brief and bright down Poe’s spine and settles warmly in his belly.

He slides his thumb in a slow circle, feeling the bumps of Finn’s vertebrae under his skin. “That’s when it gets hard for me, too.”

Nodding, Finn lets out a deep breath. He opens his eyes, looking at Poe with a serious expression. “But you are okay. You may not, not remember, but you’re alive and you’re here. That’s more important to me than anything.” Guilt twists up inside Poe.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, on impulse. “That I don’t. I know it’s not my fault,” because he can already see the protest forming on Finn’s lips, “but I know I’d hate it if someone forgot everything they knew about me.”

“It isn’t the best,” Finn admits with a tiny smile, “but I mean it. I can’t ask for anything more than you being alive and okay.”

Something is there in his voice, something on the edge that Poe feels like he should know. It tightens his throat, makes him have to swallow a few times before his voice is even enough to talk. “Even if I don’t remember,” he says, and the words tumble out of him before he can even think about what he’s saying, because Finn looks so sad under that smile, “I’m right here. If you have nightmares, anything. And they’re gonna come back.” His voice shakes apart at the end of that.

“They will,” Finn confirms and his fingers press gently into Poe’s hair, his eyes soft. “But, but if they don’t, we can start over.”

Fear bolts through Poe before he can stop it. “How can I? It’s been—stars, how many years?”

“Four,” Finn breathes and he holds Poe tighter, “I believe that you’ll get them back, but, I want you to know. If you don’t, for any reason, I still,” his breath catches and he opens his mouth to say something more, but it sticks in his throat.

Poe desperately wants to hear the end of that sentence.

“Still,” he presses, soft-voiced, clinging to Finn with tight fingers.

“I still love you,” Finn tells him. He sounds so sure and so sad, holding Poe like he wants to keep him there, keep him safe.

Poe sucks in a tiny breath and pulls back, looking over Finn’s face in the darkness. Kali’s bright yellow moon hangs full in the sky and somehow, somehow Poe and Finn have a tiny window up at the top. The light is just bright enough that Poe can see a dim shine in Finn’s eyes, the emotion bright on his face. Everything at once slots into place: the knowing fingers at his back in the waterfall and the soft fondness on Finn’s face. “We’re,” Poe breathes, throat tight, and leans in close to push their mouths together because he has no idea what to do with the weight of that.

Poe shouldn’t. Knows that, somewhere in his head, that this is a terrible idea because Finn knows him and he doesn’t know Finn, and there’s a whole history between them that Poe can’t access, and Finn is fresh out of a nightmare and Poe knows what that half-space is like.

The idea only lasts for a few seconds before the kiss pushes all of it away. Poe leans closer sucking in a breath so that his lips part damply against Finn’s, angling his head so it’s a deeper kiss of the small brushing thing it was before. The skin at Finn’s elbow is soft under Poe’s fingertips.

A soft noise escapes Finn, breathless. The rustle of the sheets is loud when Finn moves, his thigh pressed against Poe’s.

And if Poe wasn’t sure about any of it, he is now, because Finn kisses like he knows Poe. In place of the tentative kiss on top of the cliffs with the rocks pressing into his spine, there’s an intensity about Finn like this, pressed so close. He tilts his head and meets the slow slide of Poe’s tongue with his and slides fingers just up the inside of Poe’s wrist in the way that always makes him shiver.

Finn’s just pressing in, pushing Poe back into the soft blankets on his bed, strong arms bracing around him when he stops. His lips leave Poe’s and he stares at him. Fingers slowly card through his hair.

Poe makes a tiny questioning sound, eyes fluttering open. He hadn’t realized they’d slipped shut. Finn is above him, his eyes dark and warm, and his fingers are in Poe’s hair like he knows that’s Poe’s favorite thing.

“Poe,” Finn says quietly, shifting up to give him space. Only Finn’s knees and fingers are touching him, but Poe can still feel the heat of his body. “I, you want to kiss me?”

It’s a loaded question and Poe knows it but there’s only one true answer. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and lets his hand slip around Finn’s arm, just holding onto him. “I do.”

“And you’re not just doing this because I told you I love you, right?” Finn asks, barely audible, his eyes bright in the darkness, completely focused on Poe.

“If it was that, I wouldn’t have kissed you yesterday, too,” Poe points out, but his breath catches. It’s a whole tangled mess of reasons and feelings inside him like knotted rope, and he can’t even start to unpick them. He wants to kiss Finn. He wants to remember. He wants to know how many times they’ve done this before and how serious it is and why looking at Finn’s eyes hurts him so much, like a stone is lodged in his lungs.

A smile quirks Finn’s lips and he relaxes slightly, body pressing down against his. He drops a soft kiss to Poe’s lips. “Okay. I was worried, when I kissed you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything. And I know you wouldn’t. You never do anything that you don’t want to do. But, tell me. Okay?”

Poe drags in a shaky breath. “I’ll tell you, buddy, I promise. I--,” he kisses Finn again, a little longer and slower, and wraps his arms around Finn. The solid warmth of him is starting to ease the lump in Poe’s chest.

Finn’s body presses down against him and his fingers are firmer in Poe’s hair. His lips are sure, more so now, moving confidently against his. It’s easier than anything else, to lie here twined around Finn, the rasp of breath and the easy slide of Finn’s lips, and that more than anything makes Poe pull away after a moment with a quiet sound. “Finn—”

“Stay here,” Finn asks on a breath, curling closer around him. “It. I sleep better, when you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t think of leaving,” Poe admits, slipping his palms up Finn’s back. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Finn murmurs and slowly he shifts to the side, laying down next to Poe, his face nestled against Poe’s throat. After a minute, he asks, “what do you think? About this. Us.”

“I don’t even know what I think about me right now,” Poe snorts, but that isn’t at all the answer Finn is looking for and Poe knows it. His nose is squished against Finn’s head. He doesn’t want to move at all. “It feels like something that should be jogging my memory.”

“I wish it would,” Finn breathes against his skin, “maybe if I told you some more stuff? Would that, do you think that’d help?”

“Anything has to be better than ‘just wait, Dameron, they’ll come back or they won’t,’” Poe mumbles. “Right? Hit me.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Finn says, and his fingers trail gently over Poe’s stomach, “or if you want to ask me something. Um,” he’s quiet for a moment, then says, “we sleep like this whenever we’re both on base. It isn’t often, one of us is almost always on a mission, staying up late, training. But when we’re both here, it’s my favorite thing.”

“Busy guys,” Poe murmurs, and tries to remember the slide of blaster-calloused fingers on his skin, the soft puff of breath damp at his throat, the scrape of days-old stubble when Finn comes back from a mission, dragging against his chin while they kiss.

Made-up memories, probably. He turns closer to Finn, frowning. “What happens in the mornings?”

“Depends on the day,” he can feel Finn smiling against him, “if you have to work, it’s a lot of grumbling. I’m usually up before you, but you’ve been a bad influence. I like sleeping in when you’re here. If neither of us have to get up,” he trails off, fingers pausing by Poe’s hip, “well. Think about what you would wanna do. That’s probably right.”

Poe snorts through a burst of laughter, ducking his head against Finn’s. “Are you using coy euphemisms on me right now?”

“A little bit,” Finn laughs with him and he hugs Poe around his waist, drawing their bodies closer together, “uh, feels weird. But, yeah, Poe, we like to have sex in the mornings. On days off. Which almost never happen.”

Part of Poe wants to ask what that’s like: how often and what they do and what Finn likes. Part of Poe wants to find out right now.

“Everyone else knows about us?” he asks instead. It’s the safer route of questioning and doesn’t set off nearly as many flutters in his belly.

Nodding, Finn tells him, “yeah, it’s been a while now. There was a failed attempt to keep it quiet, really just to piss Jess off, but it didn’t last long. Probably about four hours.”

“Pava had bets,” Poe says with certainty, not out of memory but out of knowledge of Jessika Pava as a person. “Right?”

“Yep,” Finn shifts up slightly so he can see Poe’s face. “You knew that?”

“I know Jess,” Poe says with a small smile. “And if there’s one thing I know about Testor, it’s that she loves to be right and usually is.”

“That’s true,” Finn deflates slightly, but the smile is still there. “Um, anything else you wanna know? I wouldn’t blame you if were you suspicious of me.”

Frowning, Poe thinks of Deming’s wheedling voice and shakes his head. “I’m not at all. Why would I be?”

“Because,” Finn’s voice drops slightly, and he drops to the bed, “you wouldn’t. You, Poe Dameron, wouldn’t be at all suspicious of a guy who claims to be in a long-term relationship with you when you have no idea if I’m telling the truth or not. You have an uncanny ability to tell who you can trust.”

His heart is in his voice, raw and rough, and Poe has to lean in to kiss him again just for that, his hand tightening into Finn’s loose shirt. His shirt. “What the kriff else d’you think kept me alive this long?” He mumbles against Finn’s mouth. “It wasn’t my extraordinary decision-making skills, I’ll tell you that much.”

Finn laughs, weak and tired, and noses against his cheek, “and it’s kept me alive too. If you hadn’t trusted me from the beginning… Buddy, I would not be here right now.”

“I wish I knew what you meant by that,” Poe murmurs. The gap feels wider and darker than ever. He pushes himself closer to Finn like that will shut it.

"We were in a bad bind,” Finn tells him, arms tight around Poe, holding him close, “and you trusted me. You had no reason to. We’d never met, for all you knew I was the enemy. But you trusted me and we escaped and we both made it. We found each other again on D’Qar, and you trusted me again. Your trust made all of this possible, me being in the Resistance, being here, being with you.” He sucks in a breath.

Poe does, too, and it’s shakier than he’d like it to be. He blinks away the inexplicable wetness at the corners of his eyes. “Obviously you’re worth trusting.”

“You are too,” Finn breathes and his lips press gently to Poe’s jaw, “we’ve saved each other’s lives enough times now.”

“Yeah, and what am I doing right now?” Poe’s voice is full of bitterness he didn’t want to put there. He turns his face away, unable to take the soft, almost-familiar puff of breath on his skin. He wants the slide of lips to mean something. Poe’s thoughts skid and race and tumble into each other, and he can’t pick out a single one of them. “Nothing useful, that’s for sure. Spent hours today on that X-wing and all I managed to do was tangle up her wires, and waiting isn’t doing… shit. Tell me more.”

“Hey, hey,” Finn says, and he shifts back, hand slipping over Poe’s stomach and away. He seems to know when Poe needs space, even just that little bit, “you’re not useless, Poe. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you. Maybe this is, is the Force telling you to take some time off. Only way it could get you to stop working. Um,” Finn seems to realize that he’s rambling, “um, what else. Uh, one time, we were on Coruscant. It was supposed to be diplomatic, but we took a few extra days. You wanted to show me where you used to live,” he voice evens out, even as he shifts up, fingers light on Poe’s hair again, “you took me to a bar you used to go to. A guy started talking to me, and you decided you had to make him back off,” Finn’s eyes flick up to his for just a moment, a smile on his lips. “Like I couldn’t do that myself. He got pissed and you, as you said, ‘took it outside.’”

Poe’s smiling back before he even fully realizes it. “Did he punch me? I feel like he probably punched me.”

Finn’s fingers gently push up the shoulder of Poe’s shirt, “a bit worse than that. You won, but he left this on you,” he strokes over an old, faded scar.

“I was wondering about that,” Poe breathes. There’s a constellation of scars on him now that he can’t remember the stories behind, over the top of ones that he can. He can practically smell it, he imagines: the alcohol on the guy’s breath, the wavering, cruel look on his face, species indeterminate but definitely starting shit. Poe’s had more near-misses than is good for one person. “What bar was it? Because some of those places are rough.”

“It was at Sundown,” Finn smiles and, as if on a whim, his lips press gently to Poe’s cheek. “Don’t try that again, though. It, well, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Sundown’s not even that bad,” Poe murmurs. “So I don’t have to defend your honor?”

“Nah, buddy,” Finn smiles and lays back down next to him, close, but not flush against him, “I’ve got that covered.”

Laughing, Poe presses himself closer again. “Noted for the future. Will not defend your honor even a little bit.”

“I appreciate it,” Finn tells him softly, their faces close together. His eyes are on Poe’s, a gentle smile on his face.

“So that’s one scar,” Poe says, and pushes his fingers up Finn’s shirt just to feel the warmth of him. “What about the long thin one on my stomach? I don’t remember that either.”

“Oh,” Finn laughs and his stomach jumps under Poe’s hand, “that was from, we went to Yavin, last year. Helped your dad with the herd. Some of the baby nerfs tried to get the better of you, and you let them, but one of their little horns,” his fingers stoke up Poe’s stomach, right over the scar, “got you right there.”

Poe almost laughs, because Finn’s fingers tickle until they don’t, and then he’s leaning into the touch with a small smile. “A scar from a nerf? Kriff. That’s lame.”

“No, no, it was great,” Finn smiles, “we named the nerf after you.”

“Better have been the cutest one in the herd,” Poe snorts, and then thinks of them still on Yavin 4 and Kes without, away from everything he’d built. Occupied and taken over like everything he’d fought against in the Rebellion. “Dad knows?”

“Yeah,” nodding, Finn’s hand rests on Poe’s stomach, “you know you. You’re bad at keeping secrets, especially from Kes. He likes me.”

“Obviously,” Poe laughs, and presses himself closer still until they’re flush again, his face pressed into Finn’s shoulder this time, “or he’d never have let you help with his babies. He loves those things more than me.”

“Lil’ nerfs,” Finn snorts a laugh and rests his head against Poe’s, “uh, I asked Rey for help contacting Kes. If anyone can figure out what’d going on, it’s her.”

“Yeah?” Something eases in Poe at that. Someone else is worrying about his dad, too. It isn’t just him being paranoid, hoping against hope that Kes is alright. Impulsively, Poe pushes a kiss against his shoulder and stays there, emotion swelling up bright and warm. “Thanks.”

“I’m worried about him too,” Finn assures him softly, and Poe can feel Finn’s breath brush over his hair.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be the smutty chapter but then it was cute instead ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Happy stormpilot week!


	8. Chapter 8

Poe is all about leisure time, usually. Contrary to what half the base believes at any given moment, he doesn’t always have to be moving. He likes to kick back and relax as much as anyone else. He’s already finished all five novels Finn gave him, even the terrible one. That one Poe had kept reading out of morbid curiosity more than anything else.

It hadn’t gotten any better.

Scowling to himself, Poe shoves down the old T-65 manual he’s been trying to read for the last hour and flops back on what is supposed to be his bed. It doesn’t feel like his bed: the mattress is harder than he’s used to, and while it does feel great on his back, his spine also twinges in ways he doesn’t remember. There’s a healthy streak of silver at his temple now. Kes still won’t pick up when Poe calls him.

More than anything right now, Poe wants to talk to his dad.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to take Kalonia’s advice to just relax and let everything come back to him when everything is terrible.

Maybe he’s overreacting, but Poe doesn’t feel like being rational after getting into an easily-preventable crash that somehow still knocked his life loose from his brain and flung it across the charred trees of Yavin 4.

Poe had always imagined amnesia would be sort of like in the trashy novels he loves, where the dashing protagonist loses their memories but they’re there, hovering just a few words away in the narrative, waiting to be snatched back at the right moment.

There have been plenty of right moments and Poe hasn’t managed to snatch anything except a healthy sense of unease around Finn, who he wants to push himself close to and never leave.

Who he’s in love with, probably. He’s being absurdly unfair to Finn, kissing him and flirting like he’s been with no idea what their relationship is like. He knows that, but Poe is still stuck in the same place he was when he woke up two weeks ago, and as a fun bonus, he’s plagued by constant night terrors of faceless Stormtroopers and Kylo Ren prying into his brain to pull out the information Poe had sworn not to give up while blood and bile mixed behind his teeth. The last clear memory Poe has: screaming, and the seared smell of charred flesh from blasters. The lurching steps of Lor San Tekka, stumbling out, realizing it was all over before it even had a chance to get started, because Poe wasn’t careful enough, because Poe led the First Order straight to Lor San Tekka’s doorstep, and for what?

For a mission he can’t even remember the end of.

For a mission Finn apparently had to finish for him.

Finn who looks at him like Poe is the center of his universe, Finn who loves him and knows him better than anyone, Finn whose lips slid softly over Poe’s, whose trembling voice in the darkness somehow made Poe want to give him everything he didn’t ask for, because Finn is good, and kind, and the sort of person that Poe selfishly wants to keep.

Finn, who is wickedly funny and who told stories until the last remnants of their nightmares slunk away, and who showed him Kali and waterfalls and centered Poe when he thought maybe he would fall apart.

At the end of it, though, after weeks of waiting, he isn’t the right Poe. He isn’t Finn’s Poe.

He doesn’t even know anything concrete about Finn.

Poe’s been so consumed with all of this that he’s forgotten to ask, and now that he’s alone and more or less stuck here because his damn ribs are hurting again, a hundred million questions swarm into his brain. Where did Finn grow up? How did they fall in love? What happened, when Finn saved him? Does he like flying? Was there anyone before Poe, and who were they, and what does Kes think about all of this?

Poe never thought of himself slowing down like his parents did.

Granted, that’s mostly because Poe has spent his life pretty sure he’s going to go out in a blaze of glory. Finn must have settled him, or made peace with that knowledge somehow, and Poe isn’t sure which idea scares him more.

The list of things he does know about Finn Poe can count one hand: he’s good at cards, he knows something about X-wing maintenance. He likes to do things on his own. He writes neater reports than Poe does and doesn’t like the texture of root cakes. He kisses Poe better than anyone in Poe’s faulty memory.

Scowling, Poe flings himself up off the bed, leaving the datapad behind, ignoring the flare of pain through his bones.

Jess commed him earlier. Poe ignored it, felt vaguely guilty about that. He’d have been an asshole to her, he’d reasoned, and anyway, Poe didn’t want to see anyone, wanted only to go to his appointment with Kalonia he was late for and then go back to bed.

He couldn’t go back to the room after. The idea of facing Finn after last night isn’t something that Poe’s prepared for yet. He’d waited, skulking around medical like a coward until he was sure Finn was on shift, and only then slunk back into the room with a pit in his stomach, ignoring Finn’s still-rumpled sheets.

Without knowing how he himself is feeling, there’s no way Poe can talk to Finn about it.

And BB is gone off kriff knows where, probably with Rey. Poe thinks he was supposed to meet with her today, too.

A half-hearted lunch with Leia didn’t help either: she’d been distracted by something, sipping at a mug of caf strong enough to make Poe’s head ache from across the desk, and anyway, she looked even more tired than Poe himself feels after his maybe two hours of sleep.

“Kriff, I’m tired of myself,” he mutters aloud to the room, raking a hand through his hair. He still hasn’t been cleared for duty, has barely been cleared for movement, and the X-wing’s guts are being ripped out by the techs who have firmly barred Poe from helping, but there’s got to be something he can do with his hands, some kind of productive thing to quiet himself that doesn’t involve thinking about Finn’s lips on his.

“What’re you doing to me,” he demands of the air, whirling around to face Finn’s bed. “What the kriff are you doing to me, huh? Who even are you?”

The only response he gets is a slow, quiet blink from a datapad charging by Finn’s bed.

Poe frowns.

The pad opens under his thumbprint, even though it’s definitely Finn’s. It must be coded to him, too.

Maybe there’ll be some kind of personnel history in his file, and something in there could jog Poe’s memories.

His file just says _Finn_. No last name, no planet of origin, no familial ties. That’s not so unusual, though, for kids born after the war. So many people destroyed, displaced, there were bound to be a couple tens of thousands of orphans hopping around.

Poe sinks down onto the edge of his bed without thinking, wrapped up in the story unfolding in front of him. A headshot, not too recent, swirls slowly under his fingers: Finn’s strong jaw and soft eyes, wide and dark as he stares forward at nothing.

He joined the Resistance four years ago as a Lieutenant, a rank given for heroics in the battle labeled _Starkiller Bas_ e, the same battle that got Poe promoted to Colonel.

Finn’s mission list is impressive. First as medical staff, then infantry, a short stint as a pilot, apparently trained under Poe until two years ago he moved to strategy and tactics, where he’s been ever since. After one battle, labeled _The Impaler_ , he was promoted to Captain, again for heroics and this time for leadership. His promotion to Major was more recent, in the last six months.

His birthdate places him at 27, nine years younger than Poe, and there the personal information section ends.

“Well,” Poe mutters, flipping the pad back and forth, “that was enlightening. You’re a mystery, buddy.”

Scrolling down, Poe can see a longer, more detailed list of missions and reports written by Finn and by other people about Finn, going chronologically back in time.

Poe’s about to give up and just go ask somebody when he sees the name of the very first report, way down at the bottom.

It’s marked in red, for sealed, and labeled _The Finalizer_.

Poe shivers just seeing the name, his finger hovering over the file.

Where they met, Finn had said. Where Finn had done everything that Poe couldn’t do: gotten BB-8 back, brought the map Poe had been tasked with finding back to the Resistance.

At least someone managed it.

Poe’s already typing in his authorization code to unseal that part of the file. Kalonia’s warning rings in his ears, too many details, healing wrong, but Poe ignores it. He has to know.

Poe isn’t surprised, somehow, when he’s granted access.

He isn’t surprised either to find out the author of the report is Poe himself, dated to a few weeks after the Jakku mission.

_Finn—designation FN-2187, he would later tell me—showed his character the second he took off that helmet._

_At this point I was pretty convinced I was gonna die. The First Order doesn’t exactly have a good track record with keeping people alive, and I’m sure I set some kind of record, I think I broke my droid or something and that’s why Ren had to come in._

_So when this Stormtrooper yanked me out of the room, told me Ren wanted to see me, I thought they were gonna show off what they’d turned the Resistance into._

_Instead, he tugs me into this alcove, yanks the bucket off his head, and tells me he’s rescuing me. The second I saw his face, I knew he was on my side. He told me he was a Stormtrooper looking for a way off the ship._

_As it happened, so was I._

_I could tell as soon as he smiled, big and bright and full of hope, that I’d made the right choice._

Pain lances through Poe’s head, quick and sharp. Finn had looked sharp in white plastoid armor, sweat-damp with fear and nerves. The terrified, hopeful smile bursting over his face answered a matching burst of hope in Poe’s gut, adrenaline racing shocky through his leaden limbs.

_We’re doing this?_

Poe shoves his head into his hand. Stars burst behind his eyes. All at once the world fizzes out. Distantly Poe is aware of throwing out a hand to keep himself from tumbling off the bed, dizziness reeling through him, making his body jerk like he’s going to trip, only he jolts back into himself instead.

When the room fades back into view, it’s painfully bright, and it takes Poe a few panicked seconds to remember who he is and where and what he was doing. His knuckles are white on the datapad in his hand.

He has to keep reading.

The rest of the report, definitely written by Poe, if the embellishing details are anything to go by, reads much the same way: full of breathless excitement and joy at getting off the ship when all hope was lost, FN-2187, _Finn, who was a Stormtrooper_ , hitting the turbo lasers and taking them out in one shot.

Poe suggested his name, apparently, and Finn had latched onto it with such joy, adopted it as his own when all he’d ever had was a number.

The writing gets shorter when Poe starts in on their crashing on Jakku trying to go back for BB-8, and thinking for so long that the boy who had just saved him with such hope and determination on his face had died before his life even had a chance to begin.

With shaky hands, Poe puts down the datapad.

Finn was a Stormtrooper.

Finn was also under-exaggerating, saying they’d met on the Finalizer.

More like Finn broke through a lifetime of training to save his life and promptly disappeared into the vast sands of Jakku, and Poe has so many questions, so many things he still wants to know, but the report on the Finalizer ends there.

His head hurts.

He wonders if he’d told his dad about it.

Grabbing up the pad, Poe flicks through the comms until he finds the codes they’d used the other night to try and contact Kes, bites his lip and presses down until it starts calling.

His stomach flips over on itself.

The bed smells like Finn, and more than a little bit like Poe. A jacket he thinks is his hangs off the chair on Finn’s side of the room.

The datapad beeps, and beeps, and beeps and Poe knows exactly what’s going to happen before the error even pops up: no connection.

Dropping his head, Poe swears and flings the pad down at the covers, ignoring the way it bounces almost onto the floor.

He’d forgotten, too, to ask Leia about Kes and the other refugees, too distracted by the ridiculous drama going on in his own life.

Like he’s doing now, instead of actually doing anything productive. More than anything, Poe just doesn’t want to think anymore. Finn could only drive the thoughts from him for so long.

“Kriff this,” he says, disgusted with himself, and pushes himself up off the bed.

He doesn’t actually mean to take the X-wing up.

The techs are gone when Poe gets to the hangar, and the old thing is sitting with a new patch of metal on her belly, holding in her guts. Poe is still grounded, and Leia had reminded him earlier today that he shouldn’t try anything stupid and heroic, in her own words, because they had some downtime and they’ve lost enough for one mission.

BB-8 would definitely yell at him, but Poe has no idea where the little droid is and isn’t going to call it.

He really just wanted to go work on her, figure out the weird jiggle still in her wing and the issue with her horizontal stabilizers, but Poe slides into the cockpit to test her out and the next thing he knows, he’s in the air skimming over the forests of Kali in the golden afternoon light, chasing down a few stray clouds with laughter on his breath.

The X-wing is still listing a bit. Her controls are looser than he likes. There’s a strange whine in her engine, probably some issue with the thrusters. He’ll have to fix that later.

For now, Poe is just happy to be in the air again.

 

* * *

 

“Finn,” Jess calls, her voice a bit strangled, probably because she’s hanging half-upside-down off her X-wing. “Hand me the hydro-spanner!”

Laughing, Finn shifts through the toolbox until he finds the right one and stands on his tiptoes to hand it to her. “You’re supposed to take all your tools with you, Jess.”

“Why bother when I have such talented help?” Jess flashes him a grin, her fingers barely skimming the tool before it’s somehow in her hands. “How’s Poe?”

“About the same,” Finn says, forcing his voice to remain even. They played cards until late, until the first rays of sun started to crest the sky, the moons setting past the trees. By then, exhaustion overcame the guilt that built in Finn’s gut. Even as they played, Poe smiled at him with that sweet smile, with that slight disconnect. It’s not the same as the warm and bright smile he usually wears when he sees Finn, like Finn is the center of his world. He’s the center of Finn’s. “He’s going kind of stir crazy. Probably will be mad that we’re doing this without him.”

“Yeah, well,” Jess disappears back on top of the wing. “That’s what he gets for being dumb enough to get shot.”

“Sure,” Finn drops back down to work on the scarring on the underside of the ship. It’s easier to hide his emotions behind a large piece of metal. “Have you seen him much?”

“No,” Jess says under the sound of the hydrospanner. She sounds almost hurt. “Isn’t he with the General today?”

“I think so,” Finn says, although he knows for a fact that Poe and Leia are having lunch together today. Poe was gone when Finn woke up this morning, groggy and tired and like he’s been hit with a blaster straight to his gut. At first he thought he was sick, but the pain is different than that. It feels like how he felt when Poe first got hit, that pit of stress and fear in his belly that makes it hard to eat.

Some small part of him hoped that kissing Poe would help. That it could make Poe remember something that words couldn’t. But he isn’t the only person who Poe’s kissed, the memories could be different for him. For Finn, it’s only Poe. Poe taught him everything: how to kiss, how to have sex, how to make Poe gasp and cry out his name. How to navigate the politics of the Resistance, how to fly an X-wing, how to play cards. How to be in a relationship, how to love wholly, unconditionally. How to give himself to another person.

Finn owes Poe more than he can quantify. The longer Poe is without his memories, the more hope that Finn loses. He’s not sure he’ll ever get his Poe back.

His hammer hits the exterior of the X-Wing harder than intended and it vibrates loudly.

“Woah,” Jess’ head appears over the body again. “What’d she do to you?”

“Sorry,” Finn mutters and slumps against the ship. He takes three calming breaths, focusing on a dent in the hull. His vision seems to narrow, the dented metal is the only thing in his sight.

The high whine of the hydrospanner starts up, then stops again. A frustrated sigh echoes off the metal. Boots thud down beside Finn. “Hey.”

His body feels like head when he looks up at her. Finn knows that he looks pathetic, slumped against his friend’s busted ship, but he can’t get his body to move. He just wants to close his eyes and sleep until Poe is better and the hunt for the First Order informant is over.

Jess’ face is full of sympathy. “Anything that’ll take your mind off it?”

“I thought this might,” Finn sighs, head lolling against the ship.

“You thought working on an X-wing would help get your mind off Poe.” Jess flops down beside him. “Aren’t you supposed to be this incredible strategist?”

“I thought it’d let me repair some of what happened,” Finn says quietly.

Jess’ head thuds against metal. Her eyes are trained on the high ceilings above them, much higher than the cramped hangars on D’Qar. The pilots had all joked about it for weeks after the move, about the light hurting their sensitive eyes. “That working out for you?”

Shaking his head, Finn forces himself up off the ship. “Not at all. I feel worse.”

“You know,” Jess levers herself up after him, spanner still in her hand, “I know one very good way to get your mind off stuff.”

“Yeah? What?” Finn follows her movement, pushing himself up off the ship.

“Target practice,” Jess grins. “What’s better stress relief than shooting at stuff that can’t shoot you back?”

Finn’s lips quirk and he nods. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Hey,” Jess says again, falling into step beside him, “he’s gonna be okay. You know that, right?”

“I’m trying to believe that,” Finn tells her softly. “Every day it gets harder.”

Jess shoves her hair back from her face, working it into a long tail as they walk. “I know. But, c’mon: it’s Poe. When has he ever not come back from something like this? I mean, he got himself captured by the Hutts on a prison asteroid and got outta that.”

“That’s a fair point,” Finn laughs, “I love that story.” Grinning at him, Jess tugs him toward the hallways leading outside into the cleared spaces they’ve blocked off for training.

“Just saying: if Dameron can flirt his way out of that one, he can get his memories back. He’ll do anything to get back to you and we all know it.”

“Thanks,” Finn murmurs, shooting her a small smile. “If only he knew who I was, I think it’d be easier that way.”

Jess elbows him. “If it comes down to it, we’ll just tell him. It took him, what, five seconds to fall for you? C’mon, man. D’you think,” she stops halfway through the sentence. “Nevermind.”

“What?” Finn asks, pausing after a few more steps.

Jess hesitates. “Do you think what Kalonia said is true? About details?”

“I don’t know,” Finn breathes, “I’m worried about that. I told him some things I probably shouldn’t.”

“Like what?” Jess’ voice is sharp, but her eyes are soft on Finn. The sharpness is mostly worry, with her.

“Like,” Finn chews on the inside of his cheek, “like that we’re together. And that I love him?”

Jess whirls on him. “Finn!” It echoes through the hangar too loudly and she winces, biting at her lip. “Sorry—Finn, man, why? How’d he take it?”

“It, uh,” Finn feels his face growing hot, shoulders hunching, “He kissed me, last week. So I told him that we were together, that that was probably why he, y’know, wants to.”

“So,” Jess says, very slowly, “is he remembering things? Like that? Or—and I mean this in the best way—did he just think you were really hot? You know Poe.”

“I don’t know,” Finn mumbles, shoving his hands in the pockets of his soft pants (ones that used to be Poe’s). “I don’t think he remembers. I think I’m just, I’m there. And he can tell that I care about him. So I guess I was giving the right signals or something.”

Jess’ small, strong fingers curl around his arm, squeezing reassuringly. “You’re more than just there.”

Finn gives her a weak smile. “Yeah, I know. But I might not be, to him,” his smile wavers, “he’s really confused. And I’m making it worse. Last night we, well. Last night I told him more, that we were more, and now I don’t really know what to do.” Concern flickers over Jess’ face.

“Is he okay?” She asks, then shakes her head. “I commed him to come hang out with me but I think he ignored it. I’ll go find him later and check on him. Knock some sense back into his head.” She grumbles and lets go of Finn’s arm. “Maybe his damn memories, too.”

“I think I messed up,” Finn admits quietly, “yeah, if you could talk to him, you should. He might not want to see me right now.”

Jess snorts. “Yeah, if he stops being a baby and wants to see me, sure.”

“Sorry, Jess,” Finn’s shoulder drop and he moves closer to her as they leave the hanger. “He’s definitely not at his best.”

“No,” she sighs, and reaches up to tug at her ponytail, tightening it, “but none of us are. I know he’s freaked out. Kriff, I’m freaked out. There’s a traitor somewhere here on base and they tried to get us killed. Deming’s sniffing around like an asshole, starting rumors left and right and people are listening, and there’s only so much we can protest—”

“Hey,” Finn says, frowning at her, “you’re alive, okay? You’re okay. I’m going to figure it out. I think I’m close. I know more, now.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Jess mumbles, but she sighs and slings an arm through his. “It’s you. And Poe. And Rey. She’s pretty angry at herself for not being able to get through to him like she wants.” Jess’ mouth twists in a fond little smile. “You know Rey.”

“I do. I’ve talked to her about it too,” Finn leans against Jess with a soft sigh. “I’m okay. I will be okay. Just need to figure out how to deal with my boyfriend who doesn’t even remember how we met.”

Snorting, Jess pulls him into a quick hug—almost as rare from her as from Rey—and squeezes tight before letting him go. “You’ll fix it. That’s your thing.”

“Thanks,” Finn smiles easily for the first time today. “If Rey keeps driving you crazy, send her to me, okay?”

Jess’ laughter echoes in the hangar as they leave it behind.

She sticks close to him as they walk through the hallways, talking at him about the food shortages and how sick she’s getting of the same four vegetables being used to make every meal—”I was a spoiled kid, okay, we practically never had the same thing twice—” which is a nice change from everything else going on around the base. They don’t pass many other people wandering the stone halls. Most everyone is eating or out on a mission or, in a select few cases, not actually awake yet.

When they hear sharp footsteps up ahead, it’s so startling that Jess stops mid-sentence, blinking into the yellow-green light from the lamps lining the walls.

“Major Finn,” one of the security officers, Captain T’Laryx Finn thinks her name is, walks toward him with two guards flanking her. Finn stops in the middle of the hall, frowning at her.

“Yes?” He asks slowly.

“We’d like you to come with us,” she says, sounding almost regretful. She’s taller than most humanoids, taller even than Captain Phasma was.

“Okay,” Finn says warily, glancing at Jess. He steps forward to meet them. “What’s going on?”

“New evidence has come to light,” T’Laryx says in her low voice, and the two other guards step up with old-fashioned metal cuffs, clearly intent on fastening them around his wrists. “A council has been called to review it.”

Jess straightens, anger flashing over her face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The handcuffs send a shiver down his spine. He’s never liked them, not since he and Poe were on a vacation to Drall and Poe got a little too friendly with some of the local mafia. He holds out his hands.

“They think that I’m informing the First Order about us,” Finn tells her quietly as the handcuffs are latched around his wrists.

“Bullshit,” Jess snaps, stepping up to T’Laryx. “You know Finn single-handedly led the mission that took out the Impaler, right? The person who the First Order probably hates the most besides Master Skywalker?”

“Regardless,” T’Laryx says blandly, though her eyes flicker over Finn, “new evidence has come up, and we must follow through. Please come with us, Major Finn.”

“It’ll be okay,” Finn tells Jess with a small smile that he doesn’t feel. The handcuffs are tight and cold on his skin. “They can’t prove anything because there’s nothing to prove.”

“This is ridiculous!” Jess protests, jogging to keep up as they start to move, hands braced on Finn’s arms to make him go with them. “Does the General know about this?”

“Our orders come from the General,” one of the guards says. Jess snarls at her.

“Kriff this. This is not—” she twists around, glancing for anyone else, but there’s only Finn and the guards. “Finn, just, hold on, okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” Finn tells her. He swallows down the hard pit of fear in his gut and follows the guards without complaint. Struggling would only make him look guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! We're getting there! This fic has been in the works for so long it's hard to remember what's published and what's been cut.
> 
> Next chapter, it all comes to a head!


	9. Chapter 9

Poe flies until the T-65’s fuel cells are blinking angrily at him. Ground control has tried to contact him a few times.

“Colonel Dameron, you’re not cleared to fly,” they’d informed him. Like he didn’t know that. “Please land at your earliest convenience.”

Poe just snorted at them. “Not convenient right now,” he’d said, and promptly cut the comms, flying hard into the static silence.

Kali reminds him of D’Qar, but more than that, of his home moon. There’s something in the particular wet shade of green, and the gas giant cresting the horizon, glinting off water far below. Poe flew Yavin’s air in his mother’s A-wing with the power of those massive engines under his hands. X-wings turn like a dream but it’s nothing compared to the thrust of the A-wings, the sheer thrill of controlling something that large.

Usually Shara was with him in the cockpit. Even after she died, Poe could feel the ghost of her, her hands on his and her voice in his ear telling him when to pull up to catch a front, which edge of a storm he could ride up into the atmosphere and out under the stars.

Shara’s never been with him when he’s in the X-wing.

Here Poe is alone with his thoughts and the planet beneath him.

The X-wing’s fuel indicators flash angrily again. Laughing, Poe takes it into an easy spin down over an unfamiliar part of the planet. He’s near one of the poles according to the navigation, over a smallish continent with high bare mountains that soar into the sky. Poe loops around the pointed peak of one, down into its steep-sided valley bristling with trees. From here Poe can even see the shapes of their branches, short and squat with broad-sided leaves to catch the mountain mist. There were similar ones on Yavin 4 on the plateaus, massala trees squatting like old men, it was said, with arms up to embrace the rains.

There are waterfalls here, too, like the ones he and Finn visited.

Poe can’t remember how much time has passed since then.

He can’t forget Finn’s lips on his, or Finn’s hands sliding down over his back, cool with the water. In love with Poe even then when all Poe thought he was doing was flirting. This whole time, Poe’s been leaning on him, hurting him without even knowing it.

The smart thing to do would be to talk to Finn about everything.

Instead, Poe is up here in this X-wing where he isn’t supposed to be, watching clouds skim off the edges of his wings and trying not to think about the one thing he really wants to do, which is try to make it better. Finn last night looked miserable.

It’s seared into Poe’s head more than anything from that night, more than fingers on his skin or lips on his: Finn’s face, soft and sad, and his quiet whisper.

Poe is hurting him.

By not remembering Finn and being around him anyway, and there’s nothing he can do about that. Rey’s training isn’t working. Waiting around isn’t working.

“What’s left?” He asks the control panel.

It blinks silent warnings back at him.

His dad would know what to do. Kes would have some ridiculously simple solution that Poe should have thought of, and they’d try it and everything would come rushing back like water, but Kes is MIA and Poe is further into the darkness than he was when he woke up in the wrong year in the medical bay with Finn hovering nervously over him.

He has four years of history with Poe, four long years and who knows how many of that in a relationship, learning the secrets that Poe doesn’t tell anyone else. He can’t fault Finn for feeling like this.

He can’t fault himself, either, and that’s where the problem lies: it’s the fault of the TIE who shot at him right in the oxygen tank and ripped the memories right out of his head and Poe can’t exactly track that fucker down and shoot them out of the sky.

He feels useless and stuck and small, spiraling up a mountain in a broken X-wing whose fuel gauge is now yelling at him, still jittery from being shot out of the sky by a lucky shot, or by someone who knew exactly what to aim for.

Along the horizon, the edge of Kali’s star dips down below the horizon, sending out long fingers of light across the trees and the water. In the light, a waterfall turns into a liquid stream of greenish-gold. Poe turns the nose of the X-wing toward the falls, does a lazy loop in the air, and dives down the cliff straight through the spray. Mist explodes around him as water hits the heated engine casings.

Laughing, Poe pulls up, watching the cloud billow out over the forest below. A higher angle might send up more water. Maybe he could skim the pool at the bottom if he times he right, pulls up in time so the adrenaline bursts like ice through his veins and knocks loose all his questions.

The fuel cells are still at yellow, a third full.

Base is probably pissed. People are probably looking for him and he has maintenance to do and an appointment with Rey that evening to try one more time to pull the block out of his brain, but Poe can’t make himself think about any of that.

He nudges at the stick, relishes the easy way the controls respond to him and the hum of the engines as he pulses them a bit, hovering in the air for just a second before he tilts her down and dives.

The sharp angle sends his stomach up into his throat like it always does as Poe’s weight and gravity stop acknowledging each other. Static buzzes in his ears, in the edges of his helmet from severed comms, and then Poe is falling and falling. He realizes, dimly, that he no longer has control of the X-wing: the stick is dead in his hand. He can’t figure out what to do about it. _The breath is gone from his lungs. A hundred warnings flash at him: decompression imminent. TIEs whine behind him, firing into the trees around him, sending shrapnel and wood in every direction. Finn’s voice is gone from his helmet._

_Every thought crawls through his head like syrup: where did the hit happen, how did they get here so fast? Is BB-8 okay, it isn’t talking to him, Poe can’t hear anything except the warnings: hull breach and an engine gone and oxygen supply severed. He needs to pull up but the stick is a million miles away. Someone is in his ear, but they’re not speaking any language he can understand. The branches of trees scrape over his cockpit. Poe feels the lurch in his belly straight through to his marrow when a thick tree takes the edges off both starboard wings. Quickfire panic skids through limbs he can’t figure out how to move._

Poe pulls up just before he hits one of Kali’s massive trees, panting hard into his helmet. Leaves spray out from under him like they’ve been shot.

The dash is quiet except for the fuel warnings. His oxygen supplies are fine, at 98% filtration.

BB-8 isn’t with him.

Poe’s fingers shake, latched onto the X-wing’s weaponry. He can feel it charging under his palms, aimed at TIE fighters he could have sworn were there.

Ahead of him the horizon stretches, empty.

Slowly, his breath settles back into him.

Poe tightens his hands on the stick and turns for the base just as the fuel warnings edge nervously into orange.

* * *

It feels like the council has already made up its mind when Finn sits down. The chair is in the middle of a large room, the one usually used for mission briefings. His hands are cuffed again, his clothing wrinkled now and there’s remnants of grease from the T-50.

He tries to make eye contact with Leia, seated in the middle of the semi circle table at the head of the room. She’s looking down at papers in front of her. Jess is somewhere behind him, along with Iolo, Snap, and a few of the other pilots. BB-8 beeps mournfully, its metal body clanging against the side of a bench.

Finn takes a slow, deep breath. It shakes between his lips as he exhales. No one’s talked to him yet, told him any details, only that he’s going to be tried before the council for gross disloyalty against the Resistance.The last few hours in a cell were enough to tell him that this is serious. That it’s not some elaborate joke.

The guard lets go of him once he settles down and takes her position just behind him and to the left. He can feel her there, just out of sight.

He sits in silence, tension building between his shoulder blades the longer he’s ignored.

“Major Finn,” shiny boots stop in front of him. Finn blinks, then glances up at Neelin, who looks smug in her stiff dress uniform, medals and insignia pinned on her chest.

“Commander,” he replies, voice low from disuse.

“You don’t feel so smart now, do you?” She asks, heels clicking together, a data pad under her arm.

“No,” Finn agrees. His face feels heavy, from lack of food (he hasn’t eaten since breakfast) and from the distinct feeling like everyone wants to keep him down. “I feel ignorant. Could you tell me what I’m being accused of?”

She turns her nose up at him. “You already know. You’ve been betraying the Resistance since you got here, Major. Or should I say, Stormtrooper?”

“You should not,” Finn snaps, then shuts his mouth, teeth grinding together. He fixes his eyes on the table under Leia.

“I’ll prove it,” Neelin tells him before turning on her heel and marching over to the council’s table. She pauses there, waiting for the council to look up at her before she begins.

“Admirals, General,” she addresses them, pitching her voice louder. “As I presented to you this morning, evidence has come to light that one of our own, Major Finn, is colluding with the First Order. He has been leaking intelligence since he first arrived here, revealing our strategies, positions, and numbers. He may be indirectly or directly related to loss of many Resistance and civilian lives.” She pauses to take a breath, then states: “I recommend that Major Finn be detained indefinitely. He should no longer be privy to any Resistance intelligence and should be probed for what knowledge he has of our enemy.”

“If this is true,” Leia says, finally, with her eyes fixed on Neelin, “then this would be a long term, large operation. Are you suggesting that Major Finn worked alone?”

“I am suggesting that he acted as a mole,” Neelin clarifies, standing up straight. She turns on her data pad and holds it out to Leia. “Here are the records of Major Finn’s contacts with the First Order, dating back to a month after he joined the Resistance.”

Leia accepts the pad with a bland expression, lifting her brows as she scrolls through whatever Neelin has compiled on the screen. “This is a lot of communication. When would Finn find the time?”

“I’m certain Major Finn has as much R&R time as the rest of us. That is: enough,” Neelin holds Leia’s gaze, then moves down the line of Admirals, making eye contact with each one of them. “The transmissions are sent either every month on the second Primeday, or when there was important information to share with the First Order. There are many, spread out over four years. It wouldn’t take long to send.”

These are people Finn works with. People who showed Finn the ropes, who sat alongside him for long hours waiting to hear back from the pilots out on a mission, who were with him in the mess and danced with him at parties and mourned with him when they lost someone.

People who Finn’s known for nearly four years, now watching him with suspicious eyes and whispering about the possibility of his betrayal, like it’s already an inevitability. Tense and afraid and nervous, it seems like at least half of them are staring at his cuffed hands.

“What kind of information was shared?” Someone asks, soft-voiced from among the people standing in the shadows.

“The details of the mission to Yavin a month ago,” Neelin says, letting the words ring in the quiet room. Finn winces, his fingers clenching in his lap.

“If I may,” he says, rising slowly from the chair. The guards on either side of the council table twitch, but they make no move toward him. They’re his friends, Rell and Thalo. They play Sabacc with him. He’s lost hundreds of credits to them. Even Thalo gives him a suspicious look, his fingers on his blaster.

“Major,” Leia says, giving him a slight nod.

“Thank you, General,” Finn says, then he takes in a breath, looking down the table. “I have not been given the chance to review the evidence being used against me. However, I can say with certainty that I haven’t been in contact with anyone in the First Order since I defected. I haven’t betrayed the Resistance, and I wouldn’t. You took me in after I learned exactly what the First Order was and what I was being asked to do.”

He pauses, frowning slightly when he meets Leia’s eyes. Her face is carefully blank.

“General,” he says, softer, “if someone is leaking information to the First Order, it would hurt me as much as you. Please believe that I couldn’t do this.”

“I don’t believe anything yet,” Leia says firmly. Her eyes are locked on him. “Except that someone is leaking information and we’d better figure out who.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Finn holds her gaze for a long moment before he turns to Neelin. “Commander, I am at a disadvantage. I’ve never seen these transmissions you say I sent. Why do you think I sent them?”

Neelin gives him a flat look. “They were sent from your secured codes, Major Finn. Each and every one.” Again voices rise from around him, the rustle of fabric as the Admirals bend close to each other, eyes flicking over Finn. Maybe they never trusted him to begin with.

Finn focuses on the breathing exercises that Luke taught him, keeping himself calm, face placid. “May I see them?” He asks, voice low.

“Why?” One of the Admirals asks sharply, followed by murmurs of agreement from several of the people around him.

“Because he didn’t actually send them!” Jess’ voice cuts through the noise, rough with anger. “He has a right to see what he’s being accused of, General, this is ridiculous, c’mon—”

“Captain,” Leia cuts in above the sudden protests of all the other pilots alongside her.

Jess makes an angry noise. “We have a right to see what Finn supposedly sent.”

“You do,” Leia acknowledges, “Commander.”

“Of course, General.” Neelin sounds smug as she steps forward, handing the data pad back to Leia.

Finn stands at attention, his body at parade rest, hands clasped despite the handcuffs. It’s probably not the best posture: he looks like a soldier, like a stormtrooper, but it feels comfortable. It’s the posture he spent most of his life in.

He watches Leia read, her eyes skimming down the page. The room is silent, and Finn doesn’t break it.

After several minutes, Leia sighs softly and holds out the data pad to Finn.

He’s surprised, although he shouldn’t be. This is what Leia does. She gives everyone a chance.

Carefully taking the data pad, he reads over the transmissions. Each was sent from his code to the same off-planet code, one that must be from the First Order. His frown deepens after each one. They’re in exactly the pattern Neelin described, with information that only he and a few other people should know. Flight patterns, attack plans, suppliers, including several suppliers who they’ve recently lost contact with. Finn and Poe were the ones to establish most of the relationships in the first place.

“I wish,” Neelin says eventually into the tense silence, “that we didn’t have to make this case at all, but our luck could have been very different without Major Finn’s interference. Lives saved. The war already won.”

Anger flickers in Finn like a physical presence. It moves taut around him, like tangible vibrations in the air. He left the Order because he wouldn’t fire at a village. The idea that he would betray the Resistance for them, that he would let more people die, is repulsive.

Taking a steadying breath, he ignores her.

His eyes skim over the messages. One after another, their movements and plans from the last four years unfold before him.

When Finn reaches the end, the last transmission is from before the Yavin mission:

**Confirm move on Yavin. Full squadron on planet now. Attack when ready.**

His breath catches. This. This transmission is why Poe went down. This is why Poe doesn’t remember him. This is why the mission was a failure.

He never wrote those words.

The anger lashes like a whip.

“I didn’t send this,” Finn says firmly, gripping the data pad tightly. “On Yavin. I wouldn’t, I didn’t,” he can’t get the words out, feeling like he can’t get enough air.

“It came from your codes while you were in the command room, leading that mission,” Neelin says coldly, addressing Leia more than Finn. “General, we can’t let this go on any further. Who knows what else has been put at risk?”

“You’re still alive, Commander,” Leia tells her, and holds out her hand to take the datapad back from Finn. He gives it to her, feeling weak.

“Colonel Dameron barely escaped that last mission with his life,” Admiral Rhade says. Her deep voice echoes over the rest of the whispering, which quiets for a moment then starts up with a new ferocity.

“Poe is the last person Finn would want hurt,” Iolo says, but everyone is talking already, and he’s never been the loudest. Hardly anyone seems to hear or acknowledge him above the worried murmurs of what to do with him now. Finn appreciates it, and wants to echo the words.

Instead, he waits for the murmuring to die down, staring somewhere to Leia’s left.

When he glances at her, she meets his eyes.

There’s something there. Some sort of hope. Of trust. Something that believes him.

“General,” he says, and somehow the quiet word cuts through the whispers. All eyes are on him again. “These transmissions have put the Resistance in jeopardy. They may be the reason for failed missions, for unnecessary deaths, for First Order intelligence. However, I didn’t send them. I wouldn’t and couldn’t betray the Resistance in this way. I owe my freedom to Commander Dameron, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him intentionally. The First Order took away my life before it even started, and the Resistance helped me get it back. I, ma’am,” he takes a deep breath, finally dropping her fierce gaze, “I don’t know who sent them, but I will find out.”

“What an easy way to frame someone else,” Neelin cuts in, her voice hard. “Let the man under investigation look into the transmissions. In a week you’ll come back to us with someone else’s name. Who are you going to pin it on? Me? Colonel Dameron, conveniently without his memory? The General herself?”

“Perhaps,” the General says in her gravelly voice. Finn almost thinks she’s smiling.

“Commander Neelin has a point,” Ackbar says, shifting to his feet, “we will create an impartial committee to look into the matter.”

“A committee,” Deming repeats, “to allow Major Finn to manipulate, like he has the rest of us. Major Finn is at fault for the failure of the Yavin mission, and countless before it.”

“General,” Jess says again, her voice pleading, “Everything went wrong on that mission but Finn would never put any of us in danger. We only followed the orders because they came from him and we trust him with our lives! You know we all have good instincts—”

“I don’t see how this is relevant,” Neelin says coldly, turning neatly on her heel. “General Organa, these pilots have nothing to do with the current situation and surely have more pressing matters to worry about.”

“Finn is the top priority right now—” Jess snarls, but she’s cut off by another, softer voice.

Deming’s quiet tone somehow cuts through the noise. “I believe Black Squadron is scheduled for drills in three minutes.”

Jess curses. “That doesn’t matter! Our leader’s outta commission right now anyway—”

“Captain Pava,” Leia says, and silence falls. “BB-8 will report to you after this is over. Commander Wexley, as acting Black Leader, you can stay. The rest of the squadron, please leave,” she waves her hand at them, not unkindly.

Neelin looks too pleased, and scrolls through her data pad as the pilots shuffle out of the room.

Finn meets Jess’ eyes, giving her a weak smile. She makes a rude gesture at Neelin, then winks before she ducks out of the room.

Whatever part of Finn that was relaxed tenses up when Neelin says, “now, we’ll go through these one by one. By the end, you’ll understand that Major Finn is undoubtedly guilty.”

“Please, go on,” General Organa says, sounding bored.

* * *

Poe has it in his head to immediately try and find Finn, talk to him about all this and how Poe can help and what the hell they’re supposed to do now, but as soon as he touches down and glides into the hangar, half the warning lights come on at once.

Some of the wiring in the engines has already been patched. Poe doesn’t remember doing that, but Finn and Jess and Snap and Karé and Rey had all mentioned that they were working on her, too. He has to stop for a moment, warmth settling in him at the thought that all these other people care just as much about this old X-wing as he does.

Finn included.

Biting at his lip, Poe lets his head thud back against the T-65’s overheated body, waving off one of the techs who wanders up. “I got her,” he calls, listening to the echo of his own voice off rough stone walls.

He’s just about to dive back into the wires, try to figure out where the disconnect is coming from, when he hears, “Poe!” from across the hangar.

Poe looks up to see Rey running across the smooth duracrete. Frowning, he drops the tool in his hand onto the wing and sits up, waiting for her to get closer.

“Where have you been?” She snaps, stopping in front of him with a frown. “Come on!”

“Flying,” Poe says, and then shakes his head. Rey is radiating nervous energy, shifting from foot to foot. Poe is used to her particular calming brand of stillness, after so many sessions with her. “Come where? What’s going on?”

“The council room,” Rey says too quickly. It sounds like she’s biting off her words. “Finn is on trial. He’s losing.”

Poe lurches to his feet, shoving a hand out to catch himself on the cockpit. “On trial for what? What the kriff could—” he doesn’t even finish the thought, adrenaline spiking down into his gut as he leaps off the wing and lands with a heavy thud.

“They think he’s been in contact with the First Order. There are transmissions from his codes giving them information. Jess just told me,” Rey grimaces, already turning around to head back out of the hangar. “We need your testimony. Do you remember anything at all about the crash on Yavin?”

“Apparently,” Poe mutters, thinking of the scrape of branches on metal. The rest of Rey’s words sink slowly in. “We gotta do something.”

She shoots him an icy look. “Of course we do. The council isn’t listening to anyone lower than a Commander. Snap has no idea what to say. Neelin is convincing them that Finn is the second coming of Vader!”

Then, she snaps her mouth shut, taking a breath before she asks more calmly: “what do you remember?”

Mind racing, Poe glances quickly around, trying to find a datapad, BB, something he can use, but there’s nothing. Instead, he reaches out and tugs on Rey’s elbow just to get her to move before letting her go. “C’mon, talk while we walk, where is this happening? Is Leia on board? Doesn’t the General trust him?”

“She’s heading this thing,” Rey tells him, “I thought she did. She does! She has to trust him. But she’s letting them just, just go off on him and he was fighting, he was, and now he’s not anymore because they brought evidence that he’s the one who sent the order that got you shot. And he didn’t send it. I know he didn’t.”

“He didn’t send it,” Poe says immediately. “What order got me shot? Finn didn’t mean for me to get shot down.” Poe pauses, though, wincing into the echo of his own words. “But I can’t prove that. Rey, I barely remember anything.”

“Make it up,” Rey snaps, “you’re good at that. Make it up, get him off the hook. If they do anything to him, anything, I will not stand for it. I don’t want to have to fight the Resistance too.”

“Make it up,” repeats Poe, stepping around a pile of spare parts before he runs into it. The hangar is massive and empty, strangely devoid of X-wings and pilots. They must be out on drills or something. Poe doesn’t actually know any of their schedules right now.

Poe always, always knows what’s going on with his pilots. He jogs a little faster toward the tiny door leading to the rest of the base.

Someone has to be using Finn’s codes. Someone working with the First Order, transmitting vital data—it’d certainly explain the easy way they were overwhelmed on Yavin 4, the shots coming at Poe from every direction scattering into the trees.

Poe can’t even consider the idea that Finn might have willingly sent Poe into danger like that: not with the fracture in his voice at the very idea of it, the shaky way he’d told Poe he loved him and wouldn’t stop, even without four years of history between them. The soft trail of fingers on mist-damp skin: no. Poe isn’t dumb enough to trust someone who hasn’t earned it. Not now and not in the future.

And then there is that smile, nervous and brilliant, the one thing Poe thinks he does actually remember: Finn, on the Finalizer, looking like he was finding out what hope was for the first time in 23 years.

They’re halfway through the base by now, Poe realizes, chasing the dull orange glow of the lamps down dark hallways and dodging around personnel he’s barely acknowledged. Rey, still fuming, is a couple feet ahead of him and losing him.

“Rey!” Poe has to call out, his ribs twinging in protest. Landing that hard, coming back up out of his dive, can’t have been good for him. Kalonia’s gonna be angry.

“Hurry up, Dameron,” she snaps, but pauses until he’s caught up. “You think they’ll wait? Jess said they weren’t listening to anything, nothing she or Snap said.”

“They’re gonna listen to me,” Poe says grimly with a confidence he doesn’t feel. He jogs to catch up to her and then keeps going, ignoring the pain and the growing confusion. If someone is convinced Finn is a traitor, Poe’s just going to have to prove them wrong however he can, and that means finding the real traitor. Not easy, but Poe’s managed harder. “How long have they been at this?”

“A while,” It’s all Poe can do to keep up with her, “I hope it’s not over.”

“You know the council. They take a minimum of four hours to reach any decision.”

“Then we still have a chance,” Rey says before falling silent. Poe’s sure that she would be running if he weren’t there.

“I remembered crashing,” Poe tells her, gritting his teeth past the pain. Definitely not healed yet. “When I was out flying, I had—a flashback, or something, I don’t know. I was thinking Finn’s voice was gone, though.”

“Did you see an order?” Rey looks at him, her eyes wide. “If you didn’t hear him say it?”

“Must’ve, or I wouldn’t have flown straight into a cloud of TIEs,” Poe mutters, which is probably a lie. He’s been known to do more foolhardy things if the mission called for it, but that’s not Finn’s fault, either. “Don’t remember it. Where is this place?”

“Just around the corner,” Rey mutters and she pulls herself up to stand taller. Pausing by a large door, she waits for him to catch up. “Prepare yourself.” She says, her hand hovering over the door.

Poe feels a little like he’s flying into an entirely different cloud of TIEs. “Prepared as I’m ever gonna be.”

Grinning at Rey, Poe shoves his hand against the button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it escalates!
> 
> We're almost there, gang. Poe's remembering stuff, Finn's fighting against the Man. It's as it should be.
> 
> Thank you for your lovely comments and kudos. Y'all are the best.


	10. Chapter 10

The door opens.

Finn doesn’t look around. It’s just another person to attack him, to tear down his carefully built character in the Resistance. It took so much to get everyone to trust him, to accept him, and it’s all gone in one afternoon.

He can’t think. He can only feel the horrible sick pull in his gut that says he’s responsible for Poe’s memory loss. He can’t even hear what they’re saying.

Neelin’s voice cuts through the admirals’ debate.

“Colonel,” Neelin says sharply. Finn sits up straight, eyes flicking past her and his breath catches. Poe and Rey stride toward him.

Poe’s hair is helmet-messy, tousled practically beyond repair. He’s still in a bright orange flight suit like he was just in the air, even though he’s still grounded, and grinning that smile that always means he has some dumb plan that he’s already made up his mind to carry out.

“So nice of you to join us, Colonel Dameron,” the General says. “Rey caught you, then. Good. Please, sit.”

“I’ve done enough sitting lately to last me a good few years, so if it’s the same to everyone here, I’m going to stay standing. What’s going on? Because it looks to me like you’re putting one of the best members of the Resistance on trial for no reason.”

Finn smiles, just a tiny quirk of his lips, at his words. Poe must have forgiven him, at least, for last night.

Some of the static settles. His mind feels clearer.

“Major Finn stands trial for disloyalty to the Resistance,” Neelin states, her voice booming around the room. “He has been transmitting intelligence to the First Order since he arrived here. He was and will always be one of their operatives. I’m afraid that we were all fooled, including you, Colonel.” There’s something like pity on her face, her lips turned down, eyes hard.

She really believes it.

Poe barely moves, cocking a brow at her with an ease few people could probably tell he doesn’t actually feel. There’s something tight about his shoulders and the loose way he holds himself, like he’s ready to bolt or fight at any second. Probably fight. It usually is.

“I respect your dedication to the Resistance,” Poe says, soft-voiced. His eyes flick over to Finn. “It’s admirable, Commander.” He grins again, sharp and sudden. “I would’ve liked to give my testimony sooner, only someone forgot to invite me.”

“All officers were called here,” Akbar intones.

“Regardless,” the General says, looking at Poe with raised brows, “he’s here now. You have the floor, Colonel.”

Finn watches him raptly. If he remembers, somehow, then Poe can help him (or hurt him, if he really sent that message). It means that he didn’t ruin this as much as he thought, last night. It means that Poe cares enough to be here, to speak for him.

He wants it to mean that, and that want blooms, energy bursting through the static and fills the room.

He hears a sharp gasp from Rey.

The General’s eyes are suddenly on Finn and he stares back. At least until Poe starts talking. Poe, who is also watching Finn.

When negotiating, Poe does this thing where he smiles and looks at everyone and talks slower than anyone wants him to. Taking it slow, reading the room, watching reactions. It’s the only thing he does at anything less than lightspeed, and usually the other party gets impatient first. Finn’s seen and heard him do it on countless planets, bartering supplies, personnel, treaties. Lives, sometimes.

He does the same thing now, standing in the middle of the room with all eyes on him, surrounded by a waiting silence. His eyes sweep the room, lingering for a moment on Finn before he looks up at Neelin and smiles. Whispers start to spring up all over again.

“Now,” Poe starts in a soft voice.

The whispers stop.

After a long moment, he continues into the silence: “Rey caught me up on the way over here, which is why I’m surprised I wasn’t invited. If there’s anyone on this rock that knows anything about Finn, it’s me.”

“While that is a beautiful sentiment,” Neelin says, pacing so she’s standing directly between Poe and Finn, “what you have to say is inadmissible, with your condition.”

“Oh,” Poe sounds almost too surprised, edging into sarcasm. “Right, the one where I conveniently don’t remember the order that got me shot down.” He pauses, like he’s considering it. “That condition?”

“Yes, that condition,” Neelin responds, unperturbed. “It’s convenient that you don’t remember, for Major Finn.”

“And for anyone who really wants to accuse Major Finn of betraying us, but that’s all beside the point, because even more conveniently, I happened to hit my head earlier. You know pilots: running into stuff all the time when we’re not in the air.” He pauses, tilts his head at Finn and grins at his own dumb joke. Finn’s focus is completely on him, the swelling pulse of the room around him directed at Poe. He would berate Poe for getting himself hurt again if Poe wasn’t looking at him with eyes that feel like they know Finn: like they really know him, like they haven’t since the crash.

“I don’t see what this has to do with the accusations,” says one of the aides standing near Neelin—Deming again, frowning at Poe.

Poe turns to Neelin and Deming both and says in a flippant tone, “I don’t know how much you know about X-wings, Commander Neelin?”

“I know enough,” she says, standing at her full height, which is slightly taller than Poe himself.

“Then I’m sure you’re familiar enough with the schematics to know how hard the oxygen converters are to even find, much less to hit.”

“The report, written by Major Finn, stated that your oxygen converter was shot,” Neelin recites.

“Sheared clean in half,” Poe says lightly. “Gave me a hell of a headache on the way down. Couldn’t even find the steering in front of my face. _Rapid decompression_. Not fun. Scrapes out the insides of your lungs. What you might not know,” he glances around the room again, “is that Black One was modified.” A few people snort and Poe grins. “Alright, most of you know she’s been modded, but specifically, I moved the oxygen converters higher up, to the left, almost right behind the cockpit. They’re usually below the pilot to make them one of the last things to go, but I wanted improved sublight engines. They’re these massive things taken from an older model with a few mods of their own. Point is, even if you did on the off-chance know where to shoot to take out the oxygen converter on an X-wing, Black One’s was placed differently, and whoever shot me still got it in one.”

“Major Finn knew the changes you made to your X-Wing, I presume?” Neelin takes a few steps toward Poe and Finn can see him again. Even he can’t tell where Poe is going with this, but he trusts with everything that he is that Poe will fight for him till the end.

The fear starts to dissolve, replaced by a bright swell of hope.

“Pretty much everyone in the hangars knew about it, took me weeks,” Poe corrects her sharply. “No use keeping that stuff to yourself when you have a bunch of smart people around to help you out. Finn knew, but the thing is, he can talk your ear off about blasters but even after four years he has no clue how the inside of an X-wing works.”

It’s completely true. Finn’s lips quirk.

“I’m sure there are schematics of your X-Wing, Colonel,” Deming says from the benches. He shouldn’t be there, Finn realizes. If anyone under Commander was kicked out, Deming doesn’t qualify. Yet he’s still here. “This is a thin argument. I hope you have a point to all this.”

Poe lifts a brow. “You ever looked at an X-wing schematic, Captain?”

Deming’s face crumples in a grimace, his usual placid calm breaking.

“Yes, yes, they’re very confusing,” Neelin sighs, “we understand, Colonel. Please, get to the point.”

“I’m getting there,” Poe’s eyes flash, anger flickering briefly over his face “The point is, someone obviously got their hands on that knowledge, and I don’t think anyone here has thought to ask any X-wing techs about that, so before we do anything else, I’d like to hear from them.” Whirling back around on his heel, Poe says, “If you did transmit that information to the First Order, you would’ve had to ask someone what to say. Right?”

Finn realizes that for the first time in an hour, someone is talking to him. He meets Poe’s eyes, breath caught somewhere in his throat. The air around him seems to strain and skip until he says “um. Right. I don’t have access to the schematics.”

“Nor do you want them, I know, you’ve told me that enough,” Poe says with a laugh. “That’s pilots-only. I’ve already been through the terrible question of whether my pilots betrayed me once: I am not going there again. I trust all of them with my life. That’s no small thing.”

“’3PO,” the General says, leaning back in her chair to talk to the droid. “Go talk to the ship techs, see if anyone unauthorized asked for ship schematics in the last three months.”

“Of course, General,” C3PO says with a slight incline of his head. His joints squeak as he makes his way out of the room. It’s loud in the ringing silence.

Neelin looks interested now, pacing past Poe, eyes alright. “Alright, I see your point, Colonel. However, it’s possible that it was a lucky shot. The TIE fighters wanted to take you down, and they did.”

“Exactly,” Deming chimes in again, frowning hard. “A lucky shot. Major Finn still gave the Resistance faulty intelligence so the First Order would immediately have the upper hand, and they did. Major Finn ordered the recon and rescue teams directly into the line of fire. It’s in his transmissions!”

“I did not,” Finn shouts, eyes burning into Deming. Heat flares in his chest and down his spine, the same fire he feels when he’s training with Rey, when he can feel her next move and feel the Force circling them both.

He can’t feel what Deming will do next, but he can feel the energy crackle and lash, and he grits his teeth to keep it back. The last thing he needs is to hurt a Captain and be immediately sent to a firing squad.

Poe’s head whips around toward Finn. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows high. His hand flies up to press just over his heart, fingertips pushing into the orange cloth.

For a few breaths, Poe watches him. No one seems to move. His lips part silently like he’s about to say something.

He doesn’t, though.

He swallows, nodding to himself, and finally turns back to Deming with a small furrow between his brows. “I remember the crash,” he says. His voice is soft, almost wondering. Neelin is forced to lean closer just to hear him. “I couldn’t get any oxygen. Everyone was screaming in my ear to pull up. Couldn’t get to the controls, or I thought I couldn’t, and then my wing sheared clean off. My ship’s still sitting out there in the jungle. It’s all pretty hazy.”

Poe stops again, looks at Finn.

There’s something in his eyes that Finn recognizes: shaken, a little lost, like he’s just woken up in the medical bay all over again.

“One thing I remember,” Poe’s voice strengthens, “is that Finn was in my ear the whole time, talking to me. He always does when things start to go south because he’s the best damn person on this base and I know I am biased,” he snaps at Deming, who opened his mouth to cut Poe off. Poe stalks closer to that side of the table. His footsteps ring through the silent room. “I’m biased, and that means I know Finn better than anyone. He was talking to me the whole time—” his words are coming so quick and sharp that it’s like they’re tripping over themselves to get out, like Poe’s head is three steps ahead of his mouth, and then he turns back to Finn, his eyes dark and wide.

“You was terrified. There were all these TIEs here that you didn’t expect, like you thought it was your fault the First Order led us into a trap which we should have known about or expected, but I got carried away with trying to save my home and everyone left there.” Poe breaks off with a soft, familiar laugh, taking a half-step toward Finn. “Maybe I was careless,” he says, much quieter.

Finn wants to reach for him, but his hands are bound and sudden movements are dangerous. Instead, he looks into Poe’s eyes, that soft brown that he’s looked into so many times before. “You’re always careless,” he says, and he knows that his love shows through his voice. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Poe’s answering grin is sharp and bright. “That’s a conversation for another day, I guess,” he says, just for Finn. “When all this is over.”

“When all this is over,” Finn repeats, “when this is over, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Long as we need to.” There’s promise in Poe’s voice and in the curve of his smile

Neelin clears her throat. “While this is very sweet, if we could return to the point—” Before she can finish Poe whirls back around, his back to Finn like he’s standing between him and everyone else there, anger flaring up again. Finn can feel it. Finn’s always had a pretty good sense of what Poe was feeling, and now the energy around him is lit up.

“The point,” he snaps, “is that there is no way that Finn sent me, or any of the rest of us, into danger on purpose. You all know that as well as I do.”

Poe sucks in a heavy breath, staring around the room at his silent audience, hands clenching into tight fists. “The fact that any of you are actually sitting here, honestly considering that one of the strongest, bravest people in the galaxy, someone who broke through years of conditioning and _immediately_ decided to save a broken pilot he had no need to save because it was the _right thing to do_ , who had every opportunity and reason to run away for good and turn his back on us? That you think after four years of putting up with our shit, keeping us out of danger, trusting us when apparently most of us can’t even return the favor, that he’s going to turn around and sell that trust to the First Order? That tells me a lot more about you than it tells me about Finn.”

Poe pauses, then, voice thick with emotion and wet around the edges, he says, “and that’s not the Resistance I joined. So if that’s what you think, what you decide, then you can court-martial me right alongside Finn and we’ll go form our own Resistance built on the same ideals I joined this one for. Trust, loyalty. Love.”

When he’s done, no one speaks.

The silence echoes around the room. Finn wants to get to his feet and wrap his arms around Poe, emotion pressing hot in his throat, his eyes wet, that same force inside him flowing toward Poe. He wants Poe to know just what that means. How much he loves him. How much Poe’s words mean to him.

“Maybe we should,” Deming cuts into the silence. He’s on his feet now, staring at Poe. “Clearly he’s tricked you or you’re working with him. The stormtrooper is guilty.”

“The stormtrooper has a name that he chose for himself,” Poe snarls, slamming his hands down on the table between them, “and if you think I’m gonna get married to someone who’s been lying to me for four years then I really don’t have a place here. You do anything to him,” he whirls, staring first at Leia and then again at everyone there, slow, burning, “you lose me. You got that? Finn and I, we’re in this together. I promised that to him four years ago when he first woke up and I’m not about to break it now.”

Finn stares at Poe in awe. He’s not even sure what he’s feeling anymore except for pure, intense love for Poe. For Poe who loves him. Who knows that they were going to get married. That Poe asked him, quiet and sweet before he left on the mission to Yavin. That no one else knew. Finn didn’t tell anyone. Poe didn’t have a chance.

_Poe remembers._

The heat of the Force sketches through his body, pulsing now with hope and the love that’s so evident in Poe’s voice. He wants Poe to remember, needs him to remember, for his sake as much as for Finn’s. For the sake of their future together, the children they off-handedly talked about if this war ever ends. For the squadrons Poe leads. For the people they love.

The power flows under his skin, smooth and easy like a gentle stream, and he can almost see it wrapping Poe up, seeping into him and binding them together.

Then he realizes that Deming is speaking again, stepping past the benches to confront Poe. “A broken pilot isn’t much to lose,” he says, low and harsh. He turns and addresses the council, “if Colonel Dameron is siding with this traitor, he is of no use to us.”

Poe flinches minutely, then drags in a breath and draws himself up without acknowledging the insult. He keeps his steady, heated glare on Deming. “You’re pretty invested in this, Captain.”

“As you know, Colonel,” Deming spits the word, “we have been betrayed before. I won’t stand for a stormtrooper in our ranks.”

“He’s been here for four years,” the General says, leaning forward slightly. “Why the sudden concern?”

Deming’s face twists in anger. “He showed his true colors! For four years he’s been lying to us all, getting higher and higher in the ranks, gaining trust, and what was he?” He whirls on Finn. “Just a stormtrooper after all!”

Slowly, Finn rises to his feet, Poe’s speech giving him the strength to speak up and to gather the power around him, the Force, to radiate strength like the General taught him. No manipulation, no Jedi mind tricks, only the strength to stand and to lead.

“I never chose to be a stormtrooper,” he says, keeping his voice even. He doesn’t look at Deming, but meets the General’s, Leia’s, eyes. “I would never have, given the choice. My choice was to leave the First Order and to join the Resistance. I’ve never regretted those decisions, and I would never go back. I don’t know how my codes were used or by who, but I didn’t send those transmissions.”

“And you couldn’t have,” Rey pipes up, behind him although he never heard her get up. “I’ve been looking into them,” she says, stepping forward to set a data pad in front of Leia, “the first one, sent four years, two months, and six days ago, couldn’t have been sent by Finn. Finn was in a medically induced coma until the sixteenth day of the second month in year 34 ABY. This transmission was sent six days before that, on the tenth day of the second month in year 34 ABY. Finn couldn’t have sent that transmission.”

Poe’s breath catches audibly. “What does it say?”

“ _Secure. Message only this code,_ ” Leia says. Her fingers tap the desk, “that certainly proves that Major Finn didn’t send this specific transmission. However, it doesn’t prove the rest of them.”

“Exactly,” Deming hisses. “The issue on the table is still that Finn’s loyalty is in serious question and we have no proof but Colonel Dameron’s touching unfounded belief in his inherent goodness.”

“It does call the rest into suspicion,” Leia continues as if Deming never spoke. “Rey, have you found anything else?”

“Not quite yet,” Rey frowns, “I’m sure that I will, given more time.”

“Thank you,” Leia hands the data pad back to her with a nod. “This means that someone was using your codes at one point, Major. While it’s possible that you’re working with them, I find that difficult to believe. If I remember correctly, you were barely on the base before your injury, and most of it was in my company.”

“General, you aren’t considering the facts—” Deming cuts in just as Poe opens his mouth to say something. “A transmission sent from Major Finn’s codes put our pilots in danger and almost killed them! He obviously knew the First Order was prepared to meet us on Yavin 4 and led us straight into danger. Just hours before the mission a message was sent into First Order territory referencing the upcoming attack also using Major Finn’s codes, and you’re prepared to ignore all of this on the word of a pilot whose memory is faulty at best!”

“You’re very familiar with the messages Major Finn sent,” Leia says. The same power radiates from her and Finn feels his own winding down, settling in the presence of her. “And what you’re suggesting is that Major Finn not only directed Black Squadron into danger, but he also told the First Order about our plan before we even left the base.”

“It’s possible,” Neelin says, brows furrowed as she watched Deming, “but, Captain, you told me that you hadn’t looked at these messages before now. That you were shocked by this revelation.”

Deming’s hands clench on the tabletop. He glances between Finn, Neelin, and Leia, mouth opening and then pressing into a grim line. “I,” he narrows his eyes at Finn, stands up straighter, “am shocked by the possibility of betrayal. A message sent only hours before the mission even started. It was doomed from the beginning because of him.”

“What was sent from Major Finn’s code hours before the mission?” Neelin asks, already scrolling through her own data pad.

“ _Plan of attack on Yavin. Full squadrons, command ship. Eight hours._ ” Rey beats her to it, reading the transmission loudly.

“Eight hours,” Finn says, trying to think back to that day, the day before his life fell apart. He was with Poe, of course, for most of the day. But it takes six hours to fly there, one to get ready, so that leaves this transmission at one hour before they left. “General,” he says, “if I’m not mistaken, I was in this very room at that time. Presenting the mission plan to all of you.”

“You prepared it in advance and sent it while presenting to throw off suspicion,” Deming hisses, shoving himself away from Neelin with his glare focused only on Finn.

“Or,” Poe cuts in loudly, turning to face Finn, “someone wanted really badly for us to think that you were capable of something like this, and got sloppy and overexcited at the prospect of taking out all of Black Squadron and the Resistance’s top strategist at once.”

“They must’ve,” Finn agrees with him, keeping his eyes on Poe’s to make sure that they’re still on the same page. That Finn can help Poe get where he’s going, “it is messy. Hurting you was enough to poke a hole in this story.”

“What are you suggesting, Colonel?” Neelin asks, that spark of interest back in her eyes.

“I’m tired of suggestions,” Poe says, flashing a grin at Finn before turning back to stare directly at Deming. “Captain Deming is so adamant about this because he’s been the one sending the messages this whole time. How else would you know so much about them? If you really hadn’t read them before. Also, I’m pretty sure that medication you tried to give me last week had nothing to do with shock. Your bedside manner could use some work. ”

Deming’s face drops into livid anger. “I did not,” he growls and suddenly he lurches toward Poe, pulling a small blaster from the holster at his hip.

Without thinking, Finn is there, sweeping Deming’s legs from under him. He’s not even sure how he does it. Suddenly, he’s in front of Poe and Deming is on the floor. The blaster goes off, the shot sinking into the floor, even though it was pointed no where near that.

Finn shoots out his cuffed hands to stop the shot from ricocheting. It freezes in midair.

The next moment, the guards are there, blasters pointing, one at Deming, one at Finn. Finn holds his hands out in front of him and slowly steps back from Deming.

Poe, naturally, grins like his life was never in danger, meeting Finn’s eyes. “Always there just in time.”

Finn gives him a weak smile. “Can’t let him hurt you again,” he shoots back.

He looks around at a tiny, shocked sound from Neelin.

She’s staring pale-faced at Deming, her brows furrowed. Slowly, she looks up at Finn. “I… believe I owe you an apology, Major.”

Shifting closer to Finn, Poe looks around the room, one hand rising to settle at Finn’s back, right above the worst of his scar. “Everyone in this room owes Finn an apology.” He directs that at Leia, frowning hard.

She stands, hardly taller standing than sitting, and nods tiredly. “Thank you, Colonel, Commander, Major. This was very informative.” She jerks her head at the guard pointing her gun at Finn. “Release him. And cuff Deming. The council will decide what to do with him.”

Slowly, Poe turns to Finn, a brilliant, slightly shocked smile spreading over his lips. His hand slides down to Finn’s elbow, still touching with soft fingers. “You need food and sleep.”

Finn meets his eyes, then drops them again, not quite sure how to feel. Rell unlocks his cuff with a murmured apology.

“Hope this doesn’t ruin our Sabacc game,” she jokes quickly before turning to Deming.

Finn shifts toward Poe, exhaustion hitting him all at once. “Yeah,” he murmurs, feeling the strength in Poe’s hand on his back, “can we? Uh, if you want to.”

“I can do you one better.” Poe says in the same quiet voice, spreading his palm wider over Finn’s back. “C’mon.”

Nodding, Finn leaves the security of his hand for a moment, moving toward the long table, stepping around Deming who’s silently glaring at him, his hands bound behind his back.

Pausing in front of Leia, Finn waits until she looks at him. “Permission to be dismissed, ma’am?”

Leia opens her mouth to reply, but a voice breaks out through the room before she can. “Your Highness—ah, General Organa! Ma’am!”

Leia watches as C3P0 hurries back into the room as quickly as he can. “You’ll never believe who has been accessing the ship records in the last three months—”

“Captain Deming?” Poe cuts in, voice warm with amusement. C3P0 stops halfway across the room, turning toward the guards holding Deming, who’s looking sulkier and angrier by the minute.

“Well, yes,” he huffs, offended. Poe shoves a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Leia smiles, thin and amused. “That’s very helpful, thank you 3PO.” She turns to Finn with a nod, “Major, thank you for cooperating during this. This was very enlightening. You’re free to go.” She pauses for a moment, then nods at him. “Go see my brother when you get a chance.”

“Thank you, ma’am, I will,” Finn says, relief sinking through his skin and deep into his bones. He doesn’t have the energy to think about trying, not for the first time, to train with Master Skywalker.

Poe is at his side again, somehow, hovering there like he does when he’s worried. He reaches out, fingers resting briefly at Finn’s elbow before he drops his hand.

“Let’s get outta here,” he says close to Finn’s ear.

“Yeah,” Finn turns with him, heading toward the door. Rey is there waiting for him with narrowed eyes. She reaches over and drags Finn outside and off to the the side of the hallway, eyes fixed on him.

The amount of focus is unsettling. Rey is reaching out without even touching him, her energy brushing against his. For a moment, Finn thinks she’s going to yell at him, but instead she makes a quiet sound and drags him into a fierce hug.

Wrapping her tight in his arms, he breathes another, “thank you,” into her hair.

“We’ll prove every last one of those wasn’t you,” she promises quietly. “Every one. And then you’re going to see Master Luke.”

“I,” Finn tries to say something, but he doesn’t feel ready to address what just happened. “Yeah. Yes, we will.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Rey mutters, squeezes him once more, and then finally lets him go.

Poe hovers next to Finn. As soon as she’s released Finn, Poe drags her into a brisk hug, making her snort as she wraps her arms around him. “Thanks, Rey,” he murmurs against her head. “Still on for tomorrow?”

“Of course, even if you remember now, we can still do some work” she agrees quietly. “And after, Finn and I need to talk.” She sends him another pointed glance.

“Uh,” Finn stares at her, but she only smiles. “Okay. If they haven’t decided to change their minds by then.”

“They won’t,” Rey sounds too sure of herself, but she always does, and she’s usually right.

“No,” agrees Poe as he glances over his shoulder at the door, and back. “But we should probably get outta here, just in case, right?”

Finn shoots Poe a grimace and Rey says, “you’re not funny,” before she steps aside to go speak with Leia.

“She’s right,” Finn tells Poe quietly as they walk down the hallway. It feels like more than walking away from the room. It feels like walking away from suspicion, from what could have been.

He takes a deep breath, his body feeling weak.

“I’m hilarious,” Poe says with a grin. “And you know it. Funniest guy in your life, at least, if not in the galaxy.”

“Right,” Finn laughs, looking for something in Poe's face, for comfort, support. He’s not quite sure. Poe bites at the corner of his lip, dragging into his mouth for a second. His eyes flicker over Finn.

“Kriff it,” he mutters to himself a second later. Before Finn can even ask Poe’s dragging him into a hug, tugging him close with a rough sound. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there earlier, I didn’t even know—”

“It’s okay, you came when I needed you most,” Finn breathes, his arms tight around Poe as he settles into Poe’s body. He feels so right. He lets Finn be vulnerable, taking on his weight, supporting him even when he doesn’t remember who he is. 

Unless he does remember.

“Thank you,” Finn mumbles, his face buried against Poe’s neck. “For coming. For fighting. For saying what you said.”

"Buddy, there is no way I was gonna leave you in that room full of vultures,” Poe says fervently and hugs him tighter. He’s practically vibrating against Finn, with anger or excitement Finn can’t tell. “I’m never leaving you, alright? I meant every word I said in there. They lose you, I’m going with you. We’ll start our own damn Resistance. On a tropical planet. “

Laughing shakily, Finn breathes in Poe’s scent and relaxes against him. “Bet Leia would like ours better. Think she’d come?”

Poe’s own laughter is bright and easy, pressed into Finn’s hair. “We’ll bribe her with fruit and not having to oversee a bunch of idiots. Only a couple of idiots. You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will be,” Finn pulls back enough to look at him and he knows his eyes are bloodshot. “Can we not be here anymore?”

“Yes,” Poe says immediately. He drops his hands to Finn’s and squeezes, already starting to tug Finn down the hallway. “I bet I can bribe the cooks to give us the good shit tonight—are you really okay? You look exhausted. How long were you in there?”

“Since,” Finn frowns, “0900? I was working on Jess’ X-wing with her, then they came and got me.”

“0900? Shit, Finn, you haven’t eaten all day! It’s almost 2000.”

Finn’s feet are clumsy underneath him, but training for the first 22 years of his life to withstand nearly any situation isn’t negated by four years of comfort. “I’m pretty hungry,” Finn agrees, “and tired. I think all that, using the, y’know," _Force_ , "like that.”

“Yeah,” Poe says in a strange voice, “since when could you do that?”

“Since today,” Finn stares straight ahead of himself, not wanting to see the expression on Poe’s face. “I got. I was really angry. And scared. And it started to happen.”

Poe squeezes his hand again, tugging him close until he can loop an arm around Finn’s waist. “Scared the hell out of Rey. Did you see her face?”

“Yes,” Finn leans closer to him, “I’ll talk to her. And Luke. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Poe agrees. “Maybe two days from now. 0900, kriff, that’s—I’m glad I landed in time.”

“Me too. I don’t want to know what might have happened,” if Poe hadn’t shown up, the fear might have gotten worse. It might have lashed out more than it did.

“You don’t have to wonder,” Poe says quietly, and drags Finn closer for a moment. They’re stopped in the middle of the hallway again, but Poe doesn’t seem to care, pressing his nose into Finn’s shoulder with both arms tight around his back. Finn breathes Poe’s name and his hands slide around Poe’s back.

“You remember?” he asks after a long moment, paying attention to the hard, solid lines of Poe’s body instead of the hard pit of fear still in his gut.

He feels when Poe sucks in a slow, shaking breath, feels the tightening of fingers in his sweat-damp shirt.

“I do,” Poe mumbles into his shoulder. “I think. I think I remember. Everything kinda slammed into me at once in there, when you did the,” he lets go of Finn with one hand, probably making some motion behind his back, “Force thing.”

“Right,” Finn pulls back to look at him, his eyes wet, “right, the Force thing. Can’t be mad about that if you remember.”

Poe’s eyes are red-rimmed, too, shiny at the corners with unshed tears. “I’m sorry I forgot you.”

“Don’t be,” Finn says, voice rough, “just, just be with me now. You meant everything you said? You’d, you’d leave with me?”

“Kriff yeah I’d leave with you,” Poe says immediately, his hands clenching into Finn’s shirt again like he’s afraid to let go. There’s still a hint of fear lurking in his eyes, and the tears spill over onto his cheeks when he blinks. “Wherever you wanna go. As long as you’re there, I don’t care where we fight from, or under what name.”

“I love you,” Finn says with a sureness he hasn’t felt since before the crash, since before when he told Poe that he wanted to marry him, “I love you, Poe Dameron. Wherever we go, we go together.”

“We go together,” Poe echoes softly. His voice cracks, but he’s smiling as his arms go tight around Finn. “I love you so much,” he breathes, kisses Finn wet-cheeked and grinning, and then murmurs against his lips without drawing back, “and if I ever forget who you are again, I’m going to need you to Force-slap me until I remember.”

“Won’t hesitate to do it,” Finn vows with a watery smile. “Now that I have you back, I’m not letting go again.”

Poe shakes his head. Finn can feel his laughter shaking through him, warm and real and close. “I'm not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW we're almost there. Thanks for sticking with us, team. All that's left is Poe and Finn reconnecting after, well, everything.

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the new trailer, the beginning of a story that we have been working on for FOUR MONTHS.
> 
> We're currently looking for betas to help out with editing, so if you're interested, let us know here or at [dreamfleet's tumblr!](dreamfleet.tumblr.com)
> 
> Enjoy the ride, y'all.


End file.
